Burn
by MissScorp
Summary: Rick Grimes thought the Governor, the Claimers, Gareth, and Negan among the worst men he ever encountered. Then he finds himself pursued by a man who wants to watch the world burn burn burn.
1. One

_Where the hell are you?_ It was the first thought to roll through her mind as she knelt by a pair of broken tree limbs. _I_ _know you're somewhere nearby_ …

A glance to her left revealed nothing but row upon row of thickly knotted trees. Swinging her gaze to the right revealed the same. _Flip a coin like Two-Face. Heads I go one way, tails I go the other._

Her musings got interrupted when a soft droning, much like that of a hive of killer bees, drifted on the back of the mist creeping across the ground. _A horde of infected is nearby._ She released a world-weary sigh. _Not a surprise_. A horde of infected was _always_ nearby.

The infected were the one constant inside this cartoon circus world. They were something people could rally against, and do something about.

Life wasn't like a Nintendo game, though. There was no reset button here or extra lives. One wrong move and it was lights out, party over, see ya next life.

 _If one doesn't end up as a member of the undead, first_ …

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when a figure stumbled out of the trees. The tall, grayish man wore a pair of filthy and torn overalls. Half his right shoulder and the lower part of his left arm were missing. He trundled towards her with the undead's trademark spasmodic gait, jaw snapping, bloodless lips dripping black ooze, yellowish eyes fixed and glazed.

He reached for her with blackened fingers, groaning with his want, his need for sustenance. She had no time to run, no time to think, no time to do anything more than yank the hunting knife in the sheath fixed to her belt.

Regret cruised along the arm she raised. She did not hesitate, though. She plunged the knife into his forehead, yanked it out in a spray of grayish brain matter and was on her way before his body hit the ground. Such was the way of this world. Strike first, strike fast and move on.

More groaning sounded ahead. She peeked around a large tree to see a trio of undead struggling and straining to break free of the chains securing them to a tree.

Anger and pity stirred in her breast. That anyone could have tied them up and left them to suffer a long and horrible fate sickened her. Monsters, they might now be, and the deadliest of predators, but they deserved better than to slowly rot. _They're people underneath it all_. She didn't have time to end their suffering now. She would have to come back later and do it. She made a mental note of the general area and resumed her mad trek through the forest.

 _If only I didn't let Negan talk me into checking out the situation_ … She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. It wouldn't have mattered. He knew she would intercede and tried to keep her busy so she couldn't. _He wants nothing to stop him from getting the pound of flesh he feels he's owed_.

Worry she'd be unable to stop him from punishing whoever pissed him off lent wings to her feet. When the canopy of trees became a thick curtain that impeded her progress, she slowed from a quick jog to a fast walk.

Stopping, even for one second was _not_ an option.

Voices came from the road ahead. Exactly how many bodies accompanied those voices, she couldn't tell. Knowing the man in question, it was more than was necessary. _He always brings more monkeys than he needs to these demonstrations of his_.

It was how he played the game of hunter versus hunted. Intimidate by surrounding his chosen victims with an overwhelming number of well-armed men. Torment with witty taunts, terrorize with cold facts and intimidate by swinging the bat he cherished. Break apart psychologically, wear down their resolve by threatening to physically harm their loved ones, and then walk away, laughing at a joke only he got while telling those he let live how he would see them in a week for their drop-off completed his domination.

It was a mind game of the finest order.

Only a few were better at it than him: The Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Dr. Strange, Poison Ivy.

 _The Joker_.

The Clown Prince's intent was far different, though. Negan cracked people mentally before putting them to work providing for him and his Saviors.

The Joker simply _broke_ people.

 _And laughs about it._

"I know this is hard for you, Rick."

Her head snapped up at hearing that name. _Rick_? It couldn't be. The Rick she had known was safe in Georgia with his wife and son. A small voice warned that she shouldn't be cocky. She ignored it and crept closer, mindful of the fact that Negan could have any number of Saviors on the lookout for her.

The man was many things: bold, brash, barbaric.

Stupid? No way.

"You've been the King shit mother fucker for too damn long," Negan said as voices murmured agreement. "Bossing people around… been in charge so long you've become addicted to it." There was a sigh punctuated by a dark, humorless chuckle. "Hell, you probably thought you had this world all figured out. Managing the dead, gathering supplies, working together. Might have even been a real long time since the last person died. That was before you fucking fucks fucked with me."

She circled around the clearing and crouched on the passenger side of a battered and dirty RV. She peeked around the front bumper and stifled a small gasp. Negan was pacing back and forth, Lucille dripping with fresh blood and gore, and his minions forming a semi-circle around the group situated on their knees in front of him. _I'm too late_ , she realized as soft sobs came from a few of the women. _He's already delivered his punishment_.

"That shit's all over. Done. Gone. Dead. It's time for something new."

Negan waved Lucille through the air. Bits of blood and brain matter splattered the ground and the driver's side of the RV. She swallowed back the bile that foamed into her mouth. _How many lives did you take in return for the twenty-eight they took_? From this vantage point, she couldn't see more than one body on the ground. That meant nothing with Negan, though. There could be one, two, even three bodies.

Not that it mattered to her.

Even one life ended by Lucille was one too many.

"Let this be a lesson in what happens to those fucking fucks who decide to fuck with me. The more you fight back, the harder it is gonna be for you. So, if I come knocking on your door? You better let us the fuck in. Because I now own that door. You try to stop us in any way and we will knock that door down. You understand?"

She scanned the Alexandrians. Four women, four men, and one boy with a bandage over one eye. Her dismay and disgust gave way to mind-numbing fear when one of the men lifted his head and stared at Negan. His face was shadowed by a thick beard more gray than brown and framed by dark curls that weren't the glossy shade of chestnut she remembered, but there was no mistaking it was him.

 _Rick_.

"No," she moaned. "Oh, God, no…"

Movement on Rick's right tore her gaze from him. She stifled a gasp when she saw the man kneeling between two women. His hair was no longer a golden halo, his clothing torn and bloody but there was no mistaking that lean body rippling with an animal-like grace.

 _It can't be_ , she thought wildly. _It's not possible_ …

Dwight pressed the point of a crossbow – _Daryl's crossbow_ \- against the back of his head, stopping him. Icy tendrils of pain radiated across her chest before spreading outwards to where her other pressure points were already coiled tighter than a clock spring.

"I want you to think about what the fuck could have happened here. Think about what did happen. And then I want y'all to think about what can still happen."

Negan smiled and pointed Lucille at Rick. She itched with the want to leap out of hiding and protect him from the foul-mouthed lech. She resisted the urge. If she confronted Negan now, if she revealed that she knew Rick, it would make things even worse for him and his people. _I got to wait until I'm alone with Negan to confront him about Rick._

"Everything has changed, Rick. Shit is gonna be different from now on. You're entering a brand-new world. It didn't have to be such a painful process." All humor fled Negan's face and voice then. Anger and something more, something she couldn't quite define, and which caused a shudder to snake through her, flickered across his face. "You made it that way."

"I'm gonna leave you a truck," he said as he turned to leisurely stroll away. "Keep it. Use it to cart all the shit you fucks are gonna find for me." He let that comment hang for a moment. "We'll be there for our first offering in a week. Until then, ta-ta."

After Negan climbed into a vehicle and drove off she let her gaze drift back to the man kneeling in the dirt. She ached to go to Rick, to rub those shoulders and tell him everything would be okay, she would help him make it okay. However, she knew dangers far more sinister than Negan waited in the shadows.

 _Oh, Rick_ … she thought as anger tangoed with fear in her belly. _What have you gotten yourself and Tarzan into?_

 _..._

"Yanno," the man, _Simon_ he remembered that asshole calling him said. "I really expected that bitch he's been screwin' to show up and plead mercy for you dumb assholes."

 _What_? Rick frowned as he stared at the body lying in a pool of blood, bone and brain matter. _What woman_? There was no woman he could think of that was going to come and plead their case. Not to a cold-blooded son of a bitch like Negan. _So, who the hell's he talking about_? Rick went to ask him but found he just didn't have the energy to open his mouth, much less form the words. What sound he did manage was a sputter. At best, it was a sigh.

His body trembled from a combination of shock, fatigue, and grief. As he tried to process everything that happened, he realized there wasn't a part of him that _didn't_ hurt. _This is all my fault,_ he thought as bile gushed, hot and foamy into his mouth.

If he hadn't gotten so cocky, if he hadn't blindly rushed into that depot, if he had taken the time to learn about Negan... none of this would have happened. _My fault_ , he thought over and over as Negan's men moved around him, taking pictures of Glenn and Abraham's battered and bloody bodies. _It's all my fault._

Abraham losing out on a chance to make amends with Rosita before starting a new life with Sasha.

Glenn never getting the opportunity to meet his son or daughter.

Carl almost having his arm chopped off with his own ax. _And by my own damn hand_.

Rosita terrorized by having that bloody bat waved in her face.

Maggie forced to watch her husband beaten to death right before her eyes.

Them now forced to serve Negan, to provide for him and his Saviors or face similar consequences.

It was _all_ his doing.

 _Negan's right_ , he thought as a jolt of white-hot pain shot from his brain all the way down his spine. _We are a sorry buncha shits._ He squeezed his eyes shut. The swirling blackness behind his eyes caused a wave of nausea that rolled thick and greasy through his stomach.

He bore down, shoved it back.

Sweat popped out on his already clammy skin, chilling him despite the heavy jacket he wore. He must have made some sound because a rough hand bumped his forehead, lifting his face up. Rick found himself staring into Simon's leering face. Hate clashed with the grief and anger fighting for dominance. He'd love nothing more than to wipe that grin off the asshole's face. He refrained, however. Punching Negan resulted in Glenn's death. Something inside Rick warned him that the consequences for socking Simon in the mouth would be far, far more costlier.

"Yep, I really expected the bitch would come and make a case for you assholes." He made a low humming sound deep in his throat. "She's always preaching mercy. But the bitch didn't come, did she?" His grin stretched wider. "Guess saving the living don't mean all that much when it's her ass that nearly got killed by you fine folks."

"Wh-who are you talking about?" Rick managed around the sawdust filling his mouth. "What woman? There wasn't a woman there at that satellite depot."

Not that escaped alive, anyway. He didn't say that, though. Something told him it'd be bad if he did.

"Oh, she was there," Simon assured him with a nod. "She left about ten minutes before you dumb shits showed up."

Rick racked his brain, trying to remember if he saw a car leaving before they attacked, but nothing jumped out at him.

"No," he denied softly. "No, that's not possible."

"Oh, believe me, dickhead, it is." Simon chuckled, long and low. "Negan was fit to be tied when he heard 'bout you killing Bud and the others. He flew into a rage when he thought you assholes might have killed Fin."

"Fin?" Rick frowned. "Who is she?"

"You'll meet her soon enough, Prick." Simon's grin was feral. Predatory. Like a hungry jackal who had caught a mouse and was patiently waiting to rip it to shreds. "Pretty sure Negan'll bring her ass to your first drop-off to show her what a good boy you're being."

"Why?" Rick shook his head. "I don't understand. Why would he bring her to the first drop-off? What's so important about her?"

Simon crouched so they were eye level.

"Well, now, see, I keep asking myself that very question. Women are alike in my mind. Turn 'em upside down, they all look the same. However, Negan? He's taken a real shine to Fin. And that," he stated as he stood, "is bad for you." He chuckled softly. "Yeah, man, he's gonna make you pay for almost causing harm to the bitch. I almost feel sorry for you assholes. _Almost_." He turned to signal to the men waiting nearby. "Let's go."

The men followed Simon without a word. Rick felt invisible bars close around him. _Trapped_ , he realized as his head dropped. _We're trapped_.

And there was no way out.

 _What am I gonna do_? he asked himself as car doors slammed and engines sputtered. _One wrong move and he'll take us out_.

Not for the first time, and Rick knew it wouldn't be the last, he found himself wishing he could turn back time. He'd go back to when things started to fall apart. To when they stopped making sense. To that farmhouse outside Atlanta. And the woman who left him there for reasons he still didn't understand all these years later.

 _I wish you were here_ , he said silently as tires spewed dirt and rocks. _You'd know what to do. You'd find a way to fix things._

 _You'd bring Batman here to stop Negan._

That thought rolled over and over in his mind as he was finally left with the bodies of his fallen friends, his family, and memories that wouldn't go away in ten lifetimes.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	2. Two

Daryl felt his belly burn with anger and hatred as he sat there in the dirt. Mixed with it was a deep abiding ache for those lying dead barely a few feet away. _My fault_ , he thought over and over. _Shouldn't have sucker-punched the sumbitch for talking all that shit he was to Rosita._ He had done it expecting Negan would turn Lucille on him. Had he suspected Negan would turn his wrath and his _dirty girl_ on Glenn, he never would have punched the prick.

Guilt settled like a lead weight in his belly. His vision fractured at the corners. His breath started coming in short, icy gasps. The red fog grounding him to this world was slowly passing into a more dangerous shade of gray. Oblivion beckoned. However, Daryl wouldn't allow himself to sink into the arms waiting for him with wild abandon. There was no giving in here. There was no slumping down in the dirt and skipping off into that long goodnight.

No, he had people counting on him. A family who needed him. He glanced at Rick. His head hung almost down to the middle of his chest.

Rick had been counting on him most of all.

And he let him down.

 _Rick, man, I'm sorry._

He was sorrier than he had ever been. Regret weighed on him heavier than a three-hundred-pound buck. All of this had come to pass because of _him_. He was the one who allowed himself to become blinded by his own want and need for revenge. _Glenn _was right__. _I was only doing this for me_. And because he couldn't see through the red haze of his own selfishness he got Rosita, Glenn and Michonne captured and brought before this baseball bat-wielding asshole.

 _My goddamn fault_. _All of this, every damn ounce of it, it's on my head. Had I not been so damned selfish, had I not been so stupid, I wouldn't have walked us into the asshole's trap_. No, he would have been in the RV and able to tell Rick he thought somethin' was up, somethin' was wrong and that they needed to head back to Alexandria to plan out another way to get Maggie to that Hilltop doctor. _I'd have _figured out how we could avoid the sumbitches__ _and not have_ _ended up on our knees in front of 'em._

 _Their_ death, _their_ blood, it was all on _his_ hands. He was the one who caused this to happen. Who fired the RPG at Negan's men? Him. Who suggested them taking out Negan? Him. Who seconded the raid on that depot? Him. Who got Denise killed? Him. He had allowed himself to become the one thing he feared becoming after they settled in Alexandria: _complacent_. Hard as he fought against it, try as he had to avoid letting it happen, he had gotten soft.

 _I'm the asshole who shoulda got his damn fool head bashed in,_ he thought as he listened to the quiet sobs coming from the woman kneeling beside him. _It's me the sumbitch shoulda picked at the end of his little eeny, meeny miny, moe game._ Not that he hadn't tried to get himself picked.

Like Abraham, he stared the smiling bastard down, willing Negan to have the balls to select him, to aim his bat at him, to put him down for the count. The way he saw it? It was as good a night as any to die. Hell, he had been livin' on borrowed time for all these years anyway.

His stomach pitched and he had to swallow back the bile that surged into his throat. He wasn't gonna puke. He refused to give any of Negan's men the satisfaction of seeing him heave his guts up. Pain rippled but was also ruthlessly rejected. He didn't have time to mollycoddle his dumb ass.

Not when people were counting on him.

'Then why don't you get up and do somethin', dummy?'

 _Great_ , he thought as he drew in a ragged breath. _Now_ _I got my dead brother talkin' to my ass_.

'Well, now, son, I can guarantee that I'm as real as that chupacabra you saw.'

Of course, the first thing his brother would remind him about was that chupacabra.

 _Know what I saw, jackass_.

'Man, you saw what them 'shrooms you ate wanted you to see.'

And his days taking whatever drugs Merle shoved at him would be the second thing.

 _Yeah, well, know I ain't gonna see your dumb ass if'n I look up_.

'Why don't you look up then? Huh?' Merle demanded in a dark rasp. 'If you so damn sure you ain't gonna see me, why you starin' at the ground as if you some scalded coonhound?'

Daryl bit back a sigh.

 _I liked it better when you were dead._

'Say that to my face if you got any nuts left in that sack of yours.' Daryl closed his eyes and counted to ten. With his brother, though, ten didn't even begin to dull the blade of exasperation. Especially not when he taunted him further by saying, 'C'mon, Darylina. Say that shit to my face.'

Daryl slowly lifted his head. He fully expected to find nothing in front of him but the same grisly scene he had been seeing all night. He was taken aback when he saw his brother, larger than life, smiling down at him. The part of his brain still capable of rational thought knew Merle was nothing but a hallucination created by fatigue and blood loss. His brother was dead. He was the one to see to it. And yet the other part of him, the one that was long past caring 'bout much of anythin', couldn't deny how relieved he was to see his brother was the one sent to lead him to Hell.

 _Merle_...

'Wha'chu doin', little brother?'

 _Hell's_ _it look like I'm doin'_?

'Looks like you takin' a siesta instead of gettin' your ass up and going after that asshole for bashin' that Asian kid's head in.'

 _Got shot, jackass_.

'Want me to get you a pillow and blankie?' Merle knelt in front of him. 'Want me to kiss your boo-boo? Rub your feet?'

 _Screw you, bro_.

Merle indicated the men walking around with a jerk of his head. 'You're the ones screwed from the looks of it.'

Daryl lowered his head.

 _Tell me somethin' I don't already know_.

'You this Negan's bitch now instead of your pal, Rick's?'

That brought his head up. And ignited his temper.

 _I ain't nobody's bitch._

'Soft is what you are.' Merle's sigh chilled his feverish skin. 'All the years I spent tryin' to make a man of you, this is what I get?' Disgust was coated with a thick ripple of disdain. 'Look at you. Kneelin' in the dirt like you ready to suck some asshole off.'

 _Hell, you want from me, man?_ Daryl stared into his brother's face. _Huh?_

'I want you to get your dumb ass up.'

 _Told you, can't._

'Why? Cause you got a little boo-boo? Hell, we got worse whenever daddy was good and riled up.'

 _'Cause I ain't gonna let anybody else get hurt 'cause of my ass._

'You gonna die out here then, man. And for what?' Merle sniffed. 'Your pride?'

 _Deserve it._

'That's all you gotta say? You _deserve_ it?" Merle shook his head. "Man, you gone limp as an old man's dick.'

 _Hell, you know? Huh?_ _Your ass went and got itself killed by that asshole, the Governor_.

''Cause I was tryin' to protect your dumb ass.'

 _Right,_ he scoffed. _You ain't ever protected me_.

'Come on, now, you know Ole Merle has always been on your side. Only one who has been.'

 _Yeah?_ He grunted as a bolt of pain streaked down his arm and burned in his fingers. _Since when?_

'Hell, since the day you were born.' Merle rested his arms on his bent knees. 'Somebody had to look after your worthless hide.'

 _You never took care of me,_ he told his brother furiously. _You can talk as big a game as you want, but you know your ass was never there for me. Hell, you ain't even here now. Not really._

'Like these people take care of you?' Merle asked, cocking his head towards the remaining members of his group. 'Who you tryin' to kid here, man?' He barked a laugh that grated on Daryl's already frayed nerves. 'Me or you?'

 _They done right by me._

'You think they gonna continue to do right by you once y'all return to whatever bullshit camp your Rick found for you to set up house in?' Merle shook his head. 'I got a little news for you, son. All you are is redneck trash to them. No better than them sumbitches following that prick, Negan.'

 _Shut up._

Last time he told Merle to shut up had ended with his shirt being torn down the back and the truth of what he endured at their daddy's hands revealed for all the world to see.

'They gonna scrape you off their heels,' Merle said. 'Like you was dog shit.'

 _You don't know what the hell you're talkin' 'bout._ Daryl narrowed his eyes at him. _Like always._

'They're laughing at you behind your back. Callin' you what you are: a joke.'

 _I said shut the hell up._

'Look, son.' All humor fled Merle's face now. 'They don't care about you. Not like I do. Hell, even Miss Priss cared more about you than these people and you done forgot all about her. And about them snot-nosed brats she had hangin' off her bra straps.'

 _Bullshit. I ain't ever forgot about Mule. Or 'bout them kids._

'See you ain't tried all that hard to find 'em.'

Not finding Mule was on his list of life's biggest regrets. It was right up there with losing Beth, in fact. Only, he hadn't lost Mule because of some assholes comin' along and kidnappin' her. No, she had up and split. And managed to cover her tracks so that he hadn't been able to follow her. How she done it, he didn't know. He was an expert hunter and tracker. She shouldn't have managed to evade him.

 _I tried like hell to find her and them kids. Couldn't._

'You done gave up on her, man. Same as you gave up on Ole Merle.'

 _Can't follow tracks that don't exist, bro_.

'You gave up. Quit.' Merle frowned down at him. 'Just like a pussy.'

 _All Mule had to do was wait for us at that damn campground I told her to head for. She didn't._

'Yeah, and why you think that was? Huh?'

 _'Cause she decided to go home._

He didn't add, _where her ass belonged._ The way he saw it? She made the right choice.

"Did she? Or was it 'cause I gave her the wrong directions to the campground?'

He had long suspected that was why Mule had not been at the campground they agreed upon meeting at should they find themselves separated. As skilled as the woman was at tracking criminals, as good a hunter as she surprisingly was, she sucked balls at reading things like maps. Even clearly written out directions could result in her ending up twenty miles opposite of where the hell she was supposed to be.

 _Why you do that to her?_ he demanded as his fingers dug deeper into the dirt. _She weren't any threat to you._

'Woman was nothin' but trouble.'

 _All Mule did was toss your shit back at you._

'Yeah, and I sure showed her, didn't I?'

 _What you show her? What an asshole you are? Hell, she already knew that._

A lopsided grin tugged at Merle's lips. 'I did have a way of gettin' under her skin, didn't I?'

 _And she still tried like hell to like you,_ _despite all the shit you said and did._

'Then why ain't you found her?' Merle cocked his head to the side. 'Huh?'

 _Told you. Can't follow tracks_ -

'C'mon, man!' Exasperation exploded as Merle rose to pace in small tight circles in front of him. 'That's a buncha bullshit and you know it!'

 _You so smart you go and find her trail then._

Instead of replying to his dare, Merle murmured, 'Well, seems like Prissy done decided to come and find your dumb ass for herself.'

 _Mule?_ _That ain't possible. Mule is back in Gotham. Where her ass belongs._

'Yeah?' Merle waved a hand towards the RV. 'Then who the hell is that?'

Daryl slowly looked up. He felt his heart twist when he saw the dark-haired woman crouching beside the front end of the RV. Mule's green eyes met his. Fear and grief were stamped on her pale face. She placed a finger to her lips as Simon turned to amble over to a vehicle parked a few feet from where she was hiding.

'So, tell me, little brother...' Merle said soon as the last of Negan's men drove off. 'That Miss Priss?' He paused. 'Or she a damn chupacabra, too?'

 _..._

Raya crept out of her hiding place once Simon and his band of morons were gone. Simon baiting Rick had been harder to sit and watch than while Negan was doing it. She didn't have any choice, though. Simon was dangerous. Much more-so than Negan.

He'd kill everyone there just to get back at her for revealing what he did to the people at Oceanside. _I must tread lightly_ , she thought as she made her way towards Rick. _I can't let Simon learn of my connection to Rick or to Daryl_.

"Rick..." she called softly as she stopped a few feet from him. "Rick?"

He slowly lifted his head and looked at her. The sight of those red-rimmed eyes hurt more than any physical blow ever could. He was hurting and badly. Who wouldn't be after everything he endured? _Tonight's just the icing on top of nearly three years of nightmares_ , she realized as she stared at him. Guilt settled like a lead bomb in her belly. _He wouldn't have suffered if I'd stayed._

"Raya?"

"Yes."

A frown puckered his brow. "Is it really you?"

It was a curious thing for him to ask. _Who else is he expecting to see_? She shoved the thought aside, chalked it up to his mind being close to the limit of what it could handle.

"Yes, it's really me."

For a moment it seemed like he was going to just stay where he was. Then he surged to his feet in a surprisingly agile move and yanked her into a hard, desperate embrace that left her sputtering. He didn't bother to apologize for bursting into her personal space. She didn't think he could. She wasn't rightly sure she wanted him too.

"You're here," he whispered into the silky coils of hair at her nape. "I don't know how or why, but you're here."

"Of course, I'm here." She shifted, settled herself more firmly against him and rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. "I'm just sorry I didn't get here in time to stop him from killing your friends."

"Doesn't matter." His fingers dug into the soft material of her tank top, held fast. "You're here now."

"And I'm staying this time." Realizing he was trembling as much from fatigue as grief, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. "I promise that I won't run away because I'm afraid the monsters from my past will come and hurt you."

"They're already here," he whispered into her hair. "They've always been here. We just couldn't see them."

"You were never supposed to see them," she told him softly. "You were never supposed to see the monsters in the dark, Rick."

 _Because we're supposed to stop them_ , she added silently. _And we failed._

 _We failed you all._

…

He watched from the cover of some trees. The little darling clung to a man in a brown jacket. Whoever the dark-haired fellow was, he didn't know. Nor did he rightly care. His interest was solely in the woman who was comforting him. _Soon_ , he thought, lips spreading into a wide grin that caused the rodents to burrow even deeper into their dens. Soon he would have his ultimate revenge. And, _oh_! What glorious fun it was gonna be!

Why, it was even gonna make what he did to husky Robin look like child's play! _And that takes some doing!_ A soft cackle escaped but was quickly stifled. Wouldn't do to let the little lovely discover him lurking. Not until it was time to spring his glorious surprise! And what a surprise it was! It took some serious planning, but it was all worth it. _Told ya I would make ya pay, Toots_!

Yes, he not only figured out how he was gonna bring his and his Dark Knight's little love story to a smashing end, but he figured out how he was gonna have his vengeance upon the little princess, as well. _Dared to tell me no?_ He pouted. _Nobody tells me no! Not even the Big Guy_!

Feigning his death, convincing the Bats that it was his body he carried from the Monarch Theater, and him they tossed in the incinerator had been the easy part. Finding where ole Batsy stashed this little birdie? Well, now, _that_ had taken a bit of doing. _It was all worth it_ , he thought again as the man led her over to where the others gathered around a bludgeoned body. He had found her...

"Twinkle, twinkle, my dearest brat," he softly sang as he turned to head deeper into the forest. "This time you're gonna call the big black Bat..."


	3. Three

He came awake in batches. Why exactly he was waking up, he didn't know. Last thing he remembered was staring at Mule as she crouched by the front bumper of the RV. Then he got plunged down the rabbit hole into Bullshitland.

The back of his eyelids got hit by a sudden, blinding flash of light. He tossed an arm across his eyes in an instinctive, protective gesture. Not that it really helped any damn thing. The images that shot across the back of his eyelids were from the most terrible moments of the previous night.

The side of Rick's face getting splashed with blood as that damn bat of Negan's swung to the side after clubbing Abraham on the top of his head.

Glenn looking over at Maggie, his face a gruesome mask of blood and dripping gray matter, one eye nearly popping out from its socket and telling her he'd find her.

Negan grabbing Rick by his collar and dragging him into the RV and off to only God knew where.

And the last, most bitter memory of all from that night: the kid telling Rick to go ahead and saw his damn arm off.

A well of self-hatred, bitter regret, and soul-sucking pain slammed into Daryl with each image and knocked him back into the void he had barely escaped from. He found himself again floating on that dark cloud. This time he embraced it, allowed the cool, calm quiet to settle the nausea in his belly.

He told himself this was where a festering pile of dog shit like him deserved to end up. Physical pain he could handle. The shit his daddy, uncle, and Merle did to him as a kid made him tough. Hell, at five he'd gotten his broken arm set without making a lick of sound. Nothing had prepared him for this ball-busting shit, though.

As he laid there among the giggling assholes with wings, Daryl found himself wondering about whether he had finally been put down for the count. Maybe he had finally got knocked in the head and this was just his body's last attempt to rally back to the fight. _It's what I damn sure deserve after what I did to Glenn_ , he thought a second before searing pain ripped through his skull and brought more images he didn't wanna see.

Negan aiming Lucile, still dripping bloody molasses into Rosita's ashen face.

Rick kneeling in the dirt with his head lowered.

The last image was the one that had his tormentors taunting and jeering the most. Not like he didn't feel like a goddamn lowlife scumball. He let every damn body down. He was why they were in the fix they were in. Had he not let his pride, his ego get in the way, they wouldn't have ended up as Negan's chew toys.

Groaning, Daryl put his hands to his head and prayed for the images, the thoughts, and the pain to stop. _Just five minutes,_ he begged whatever gods might even be listening to losers like him. _Just give me five damn minutes of nothing in my head_. It didn't seem like all that much to ask for. Not that he deserved mercy. The first part of his prayer was answered as his pain subsided to a low, dull throb. His thoughts stilled. It was just the images that took their sweet ass time in going away. Eventually, though they, too, stopped coming.

He used the quiet to allow his other senses to catch up with his messed-up brain. Sound and smell came as he pushed himself again towards a state of consciousness. Burnt motor oil, gasoline, dirt, and blood teased at his nostrils while the sputter of a V8 in need of some serious engine work assaulted his poor eardrums.

A faint thought about how ironic it was that the car bearing him to hell was a piece of shit floated through his mind. Then the vehicle hit a rut in the road, bouncing him right back into the arms of pain. He bit back a few choice sayings as a slow, steady throbbing started in the back of his fool head. A second later his eyeballs pulsated with it. Then the rest of his worthless hide joined the party.

Most of the pain seemed stuck to his shoulder, chest, neck, and ribs. As Daryl lay there, taking stock of his physical condition and cursing whatever angel kept him from joining Merle in whatever pit of hell _he_ was roasting in, he realized there wasn't a place on his damn hide that _didn't_ hurt. Even his damn eyelashes pulsed with pain. However, it was the bearable kinda pain and not the breath stealing, strength zapping, hallucinating sorta shit he had been having back in that clearing.

 _Least I ain't seeing or hearing Merle at the moment..._

As if he conjured his older brother up from out of thin air, Daryl heard a snort and Merle saying, 'Looks like you done got screwed by the pooch here, son.'

 _Tell me something I don't already know, jackass._

'Open your eyes and you'll see shit for yourself.'

Even if he could manage to open his eyes, he was sure the only thing he'd see would be Merle sitting back with that shit-eating grin of his stretched wide across his leathery face.

 _Your ass still ain't real_ , he told him. _Don't care what the hell you say_.

'Well, now, son, I guarantee you that I'm still more real than that damn Chupacabra you claim to have seen.'

Daryl merely heaved a sigh.

 _Ain't got time for your bullshit, Merle_.

'Why the hell not?' Merle demanded. 'Since you just laying there like some fancy whore.'

Daryl ignored him. The way he saw it, there'd be plenty of time for them to chew the fat after he got his one-way trip downstairs. He tried to move but felt his shoulder scream in protest. He supposed feeling pain of any kind was a good sign. If Mule was there, she'd tell him how feeling anything was a good sign. Damn woman was full of notions he hadn't cottoned too back when they were traveling together.

 _Like chirping about how my ass wasn't dead because I hadn't finished whatever bullshit the guy upstairs needed me to do_.

He bit back a groan as the vehicle bounced over another batch of uneven road. An almost desperate wish to suddenly feel her cool hand brush back the hair sticking to his clammy flesh rose in him but he slapped it back with a curse. He didn't have any right to comfort. Not after what he did. _And her mule-headed ass is where it belongs_ , he thought, grimacing as a jolt of white-hot pain shot through his shoulder and down across his chest and abdominal region. _She'll take care of Rick and the others._

As he should have done.

Daryl swallowed the guilt that surged into his mouth and cautiously opened his eyes. He regretted the decision immediately. The world flying by the window on his left caused his belly to roll over. For a moment he thought he was gonna puke. He bore down, shoved the nausea back and tried to sit up but found he was being held in place by satin-smooth tentacles that tightened about him the more he moved. _Or maybe_ , he reasoned as agony shot across his chest, and along his arm, _it is just my damn body refusing to obey my brain's command to sit the hell up_.

He must have made some sorta sound because a hand gloved in black leather was set upon his shoulder and a voice smooth as molasses was telling him, "we'll be at the Sanctuary in a few minutes."

His first thought after hearing that was: _who's this asshole?_ It was quickly followed by, _and what's this Sanctuary he talking 'bout?_ Something told him it wasn't wherever Mule and her kids were staying. A primal part of him warned him this Sanctuary was someplace he didn't wanna end up.

 _And this guy could be one of Negan's bitch buddies_.

"Who'n hell are you?"

He had spoken the words. He could feel them on his lips still. Yet nothing echoed in the silent can that suggested he made a lick of sound. He cleared his throat, moistened his lips and went to try again but a sigh broke the quiet and muzzled him before his mouth could go into rapid-fire mode.

"Look, man, I know you gotta have a shit ton of questions," he heard him - he assumed it was a _him_ anyway - say over the whine and snarl of the engine. "And I promise I'll do my best to answer every one of 'em once we get to the Sanctuary."

Daryl ignored the blinding pain any slight bit of movement caused and twisted his head around so he could stare at the figure seated in the driver's seat. A frown pulled at his brow and increased the throbbing going on behind his eyeballs. He ignored his physical bullshit and took stock of the prick he figured was the one who clubbed him over the head.

The red hood the asshole had pulled up over his or her head hid their face completely from view. He couldn't see if the guy was young, old, or even a dude for that matter. Could be a real masculine chick, he decided as he tried to angle his head in a way that would allow him to look in the rearview mirror. He couldn't see shit from his prone position and his body was warning him 'bout the price he'd pay if'n he tried to sit up.

"Who'n the hell are you?" He managed around the sawdust filling his throat and mouth. "And where the hell is this Sanctuary you taking me?"

The leather-wearing sumbitch turned his head just enough that Daryl could see the outline of the red half-mask that covered the upper part of his face. _Could the prick be a friend of Mule's? Or an enemy_? he wondered. _How many of these mask wearing folk are out there_? Mule and maybe Batman - who he still doubted existed - was more than enough for him. _Ain't liking how she gotta put that mask on and fight these shits_...

A cursory glance around the back of the vehicle revealed a brown quiver with some fancy black arrows in it, a far more flashy recurve bow than what Mule used, and some hunting knives and other thingamabobs that reminded him of some of the fancy ass shit he'd seen in that small armory she had back in her house in Georgia.

"You can call me Roy," his kidnapper said. "Or Harper."

The name tickled a memory buried deep beneath all the other crap he had festering inside his head. _Mule talked 'bout some kid she took in for a time. Showed me a picture of some dark-haired fella in a red jacket. Called him Harper. Could this be his ass_? He couldn't say for sure. Not without seeing the sumbitch in a better light, without his mask and hood. _And without my damn head throbbing like a bad tooth_.

He opted to go the direct route and ask him.

"You know Mule?"

"Mule?" That hooded head shook back and forth slowly. "Sorry, but I don't know anybody named Mule. Why?"

 _Well, there goes that_ , Daryl thought. "Just askin'."

"Are you by chance referring to Raya?" his kidnapper asked. "She's the only person I know who is as stubborn and temperamental as a mule."

He grunted as they hit another bump in the road. "Yeah, that's Mule."

"Then, yes, I do know a Mule. Only, I call her Raya."

"Yeah?" He rasped as he tried to push himself into a seated position. "Well, how you think she gonna like your cracking me over the head and dragging my ass off to wherever this Sanctuary is?"

"She's not gonna be very happy with me," Roy admitted as he swerved to miss a pothole. Daryl got tossed against the side of the SUV and felt pain radiate out from the hole in his right shoulder. He swallowed some choice words as Roy uttered a terse, "Sorry! Got some undead crowding the access road I use to get in and outta the Sanctuary."

"Yeah, _Roy_ , how 'bout you tell me 'bout this Sanctuary you taking my ass too?"

Roy swerved again but Daryl was able to grab hold of the back of the seat before he got tossed to the other side of the vehicle.

"You already know the answer to that, man."

Yeah, he had a feeling he was gonna end up in hell sooner rather than later. _Just didn't know that the devil is that leather jacket wearing, bat wielding asshole_.

"So, you taking my ass to that ball bat wielding prick."

"Look, it's not like I relish taking you to Negan. The truth is..." Roy trailed off into a sigh. "Truth is, I don't have any other choice about where to take you. The only place that is safe is the Sanctuary."

"And how you figure that?" He grunted as they hit another rut. "Huh? In case you ain't been paying a lick of attention to the shit that just went down, Negan has me and my friends at his damn mercy."

"I know he does." His soft words were followed by a long, drawn-out sigh. "And trust me, he is going to relish trying to break you." Daryl heard the groaning of leather over the whine of the brakes. "I was actually surprised when he didn't order you taken as a captive. His other way of punishing those who cross him is turning people into his henchmen and using them against their former friends and communities."

"Yeah?" Daryl swallowed a curse as he pushed himself into a seated position. "Well, I ain't gonna be his bitch. He can kiss my ass 'bout that."

"Remember that when he's doing everything he can to break you." Roy parked the vehicle between some trees. "And know that no matter what he does to you? What Slade Wilson would do to you is much, much worse."

That name set off alarm bells inside Daryl's head. Ones that were even louder than the ones already ringing like Christmas bells. He'd heard that name before. But where? And by who? He was about to ask him who the sumbitch was when Roy turned in his seat to look at Daryl. His eyes, behind that reddish mask, burned with an anger that he understood all too well.

"Negan," he said in all seriousness now, "just wants you to provide for him. Slade Wilson on the other hand? He wants to use you to get at her."

"Her?" Suspicion thickened his voice. "You mean Mule?"

"Yes."

The flood of anger that filled him at some prick wantin' to use him to get at Mule chased away any lingering pain and emotional bullshit he was feeling.

"Why he wanna use me to get at Mule?" The edges of his vision blurred as he pushed himself upright, but he slapped the fog back and demanded, "What's his beef with her?"

"I shouldn't..." Roy began but Daryl cut him off before he could spew whatever bullshit about to leave his mouth.

"Why the hell he wanna use me to get at Mule?" He repeated, more firmly this time. "Hell's he want with her?"

"Well, he's…" Roy paused, considering his words carefully. "Dammit, he's Rose's biological father."

"He's the stalker sumbitch Mule moved to Georgia to get the hell away from?"

"Yes."

"And he wants my ass to do what? Get his daughter for him?" He sniffed, once. "Ain't gonna happen."

"He wants to force Raya into trading Rose for you."

"Yeah, well, that shit ain't gonna happen either." He fixed Roy with a look that burned with the fire in his belly. "You hear me? Sumbitch ain't gonna use me to force Mule into giving up her kid."

He'd put his own ass down before he'd let that shit happen.

"Do you understand why I had to bring you to the Sanctuary now?" Exhaustion and frustration coated every syllable that tripped off Roy's tongue. "Do you see why I have to give you over to a man who is going to physically and psychologically torture you every moment that he can?"

"Why it gotta be Negan's damn Sanctuary is what I wanna know?" He stared Roy dead in the eye, demanding an explanation and darin' him to lie to him all at the same time. "Why can't it be wherever the hell Mule is?"

Roy hesitated for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and said simply, honestly, "Because I know that as long as Negan has you as his pet, Slade can't get his hands on you. And so long as Slade can't get his hands on you..."

"Mule can't trade Rose for my worthless ass," Daryl finished for him, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I got it."

"Do you?" Roy's face shined with intensity and regret now. "Because she's not going too. In fact, she's likely to kick my ass from here to Gotham when she finds out what I've done."

Daryl grunted. "Did what you gotta."

"She won't see it like that," Roy admitted, grimacing. "She doesn't see that you're her kryptonite. You, your leader and his boy are what Slade can use to bring her to her knees."

"I ain't-" he began.

"You're everything," Roy finished for him. "You might not see it… but it's true. You're family. And she will tear the world itself apart to get to you. To any of you. I've seen her do it before."

"Yeah, well, ain't gonna happen," he muttered as he lowered his head. He told himself it wasn't that he was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. Hell, he knew how pissy she could get when one of her own was in danger. It was that he didn't deserve that kinda loyalty. "I'll make damn sure she minds herself."


	4. Four

The gun belched out a burst of white-hot flame. Something whistled by his ear and then there was a sound, much like the one a wet mop made as it slapped upon tile. Puzzled by it, Bruce turned towards his father, his lips forming a request for an explanation of what the sound was.

The words died in his throat when he saw how Father was staring down at a large red stain blossoming across the ivory front of the dress shirt he wore that evening just for Mother. _Where did that come from_? he wondered as he watched the stain become darker and larger with every second that ticked by.

A cursory inspection showed Bruce that the crimson splotch was coming from a small, black perforation in the middle of Father's chest. Confusion filled him, and a frown pulled at his brow as he tried to reason out how Father had acquired such a nasty looking hole. _Did it happen when the gun went off_? He couldn't be sure. It seemed like it, though. It was what happened when John Wayne or James Cagney shot someone.

The old-time gangster and cowboy movies he so favored were nowhere as realistic as this, though. Blood on a movie or tv screen looked more like thick syrup than this crimson like ooze pouring out of his father. Despite his growing horror and revulsion, Bruce found himself intrigued. It was almost like this was a lesson his Father setup to teach him about various injuries and the proper way to tend them.

Distantly, he heard a scream, realized it was Mother, but he just couldn't take his eyes off that hole in his father's chest. His frown deepened as a hoarse rattle emitted from Father. That sounds entirely too real, he thought. Father's eyes widened with a mixture of shock, fear, and pain. His mouth formed soundless, inarticulate words.

Then he slumped, much like a puppet after his strings got released. If not for the blood staining the front of his shirt, Bruce would have thought his father was imitating one of those marionettes they had seen perform at the carnival last Halloween. Only, he knew that wasn't the case. Father wasn't a doll dumped on the wet cobblestone.

No, he was a battered and broken man who lay there in an ever-growing pool of red.

Father's arms and legs were akimbo, his brown eyes slowly glazed over, and his mouth worked to form his final mortal thoughts. Shocked disbelief crashed over Bruce in icy waves as a terrible truth dawned.

Father was _dying_.

Mother let out another horrified scream. Bruce heard it over the loud roar filling his ears. He lifted eyes that felt as hot as the fires burning in many of the fireplaces across the city to his mother's wide ones. Silently, he begged her for an explanation for why this was done to Father but saw her gaze on the shadow monster moving towards her.

Every ripple of muscle reminded Bruce of a hungry wolf as it stalked its prey. Every word spoken came out sounding like the hungry snap of a pair of massive jaws. Mother gave a quick shake of her head and took a hesitant step backward, her hands held up in supplication, and her bone-white face wet with tears.

"Please..." Mother pleaded in a tremulous voice. "Please, leave us alone."

"After I get what I want." The shadow monster reached then for the strand of pearls fastened about her slender throat. "Now, gimme those damn-"

Mother pulled away from the man, a soft, "No…" Falling from pale, trembling lips. "No, please."

The gun barked once more. Again, Bruce heard the wet mop slapping upon tile. This time, however, he knew what it meant. Helpless, Bruce could do nothing more than stand there and stare at the strange hole burned into Mother's chest. It was blackened around the edges just like Father's and weeping the same crimson tears.

The wet spread across the front of her dress in a pattern Bruce likened to a pair of wings. What color drained out of Mother's face. Her eyes, the same shade of blue as his, went wide with a deluge of shock, fear, and agony.

Then she started to fall backward.

Bruce's heart slammed against his ribcage and his breath wheezed out from between lips that felt like they were frozen together as the awful sight seared itself into his memory. The shadow monster curled his fingers around her pearl necklace, almost as if he hoped the pearlescent strand would force Mother to stay upright, but the delicate silver clasp broke and sent the orbs flying high into the night.

Over a dozen round spheres spilled past Bruce's face, rained down his chest, stomach, and legs. They sounded like ice landing in the bottom of an empty glass as they bounced, once, upon the bloodstained pavement. Bruce watched, horribly transfixed as a few rolled to a stop in the crimson puddle already forming beneath Mother and Father's bodies.

Bruce would live, all the rest of his life he would live with this image of his parents bleeding in the middle of an alley as the shadow monster who had done this to them circled around them like a vulture waiting to peck at their carcasses. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the man who had done this to them.

He wanted to understand why he had done this.

He searched the man's craggy face but saw nothing that explained why he felt he needed to hurt Mother and Father. All he saw in the hazel eyes staring back at him was emptiness. Not anger, not hatred, not fear, not anything. It was as if Bruce stared into the eyes of a robot. A mindless, emotionless, thoughtless machine. He desperately wanted to ask the man _why_. Why did he follow them into this alley? Why did he single them out? Why did he fire that gun? Why didn't he just ask Father for money?

The questions never left his lips.

He just didn't have the energy to form, much less say them aloud. He was just too numb. Too stricken by fear. Too cowardly to do anything but stare at the man who had coldly, cruelly taken his parents from him. The man raised the still smoking pistol and aimed it at Bruce, but feet pounding the pavement and inaudible shouts as passersby became aware of what was happening jerked the man back to reality.

He blinked his eyes rapidly and then looked at Bruce as though he suddenly remembered where he was. He looked at what he had done to Mother and Father and went white as the antique tablecloth spread across the table in the Manor's formal dining room.

"So-sorry," he stammered before he spun on one heel and raced off into the darkness. Bruce just stood there, dazed, confused and knowing his life would never be the same. Then he heard a groan followed by his name.

"Bruce..." It was hardly a whisper. Bruce thought he imagined it until he heard it again. "Bruce."

"Father?"

"Co-come here, son."

On legs that felt like blocks of stone, he crept over to where his father lay, unmoving.

"Father?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but he was suddenly so cold his teeth chattered. He bent down until his face was close to Father's ashen one. "Father?"

"Do-don't be afraid." Father's lips trembled, struggled to curve into a reassuring smile. "I-it's gonna be okay, son. I pro-promise. It's gonna be okay."

Bruce knew it was a lie. Even though he had never seen anyone die up close and personally before, he was still able to recognize it. He knew death was imminent. There was a wet rasping sound. Father's pupils slowly fixed and dilated. It was like someone had turned the lights off. Then his body went limp. He thought he heard his father breathe out his name one last time.

Then he was gone.

Same as Mother was gone.

Bruce found himself all alone, facing a cold, cruel world he was nowhere near ready to face and having to deal with things he wasn't anywhere near mature enough to handle. He sunk to his knees, fingers curling into the bloodstained pearls as he stared at his parents' lifeless bodies.

Something stirred to life within him at that moment. He had no idea what it was, just that it was somehow connected to this night and what had just happened to his parents. The pressure built the longer he sat there, bubbling just beneath the grief and shock enveloping him in their sinewy arms. He knew he had to… absolutely _had_ to keep whatever was swirling around inside of him in check.

The stress of everything mingled with the rampant emotions flowing through him until he thought he would burst at the seams from the pressure. Bruce did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that made sense at that moment.

He tossed his head back and howled his rage, his grief, his hurt to the night...

...

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes and waited for the nightmare masquerading as a memory to slowly fade from his mind. It, along with the hot bite of hate that accompanied it, never diminished. No matter how much he tried to make it. It was the second constant in his life.

The first being the night he immersed himself in for the past three decades.

Done with sleep, Bruce sat up, comforted by the cool silkiness of the sheets against his clammy skin. He kicked the covers off, stood, and grasped hold of the wooden cane Alfred thoughtfully left resting against his nightstand. His left leg, badly injured a year before protested every step he took. He ignored the pain, considered it his due for a career spent saving the innocent from the monsters trying to consume them with their madness.

In his bedroom window's reflection, he could see his face was gaunt and drawn. Dark circles haunted his eyes. Traces of gray could be seen in the dark hair at his temples. A rumpled silk dressing gown was draped over his shoulders. He looked nothing like the dashing and handsome playboy who once graced the society pages of every major newspaper in the world. Then again, who could look that way with the world consumed by chaos?

 _I thought we would have solved this virus by now_ , he thought as he stared out over the dark city. _I thought things would be back to normal. I thought..._

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce glanced behind him to see Alfred framed in the doorway. Even in the faint glow coming from the hallway he could see the worry darkening the butler's brow. He smiled to himself as he slowly turned to face the older man.

"What is it, Alfred?"

"Are you all right?"

He nodded. "Just unable to sleep."

"Do you require something to help you sleep?"

"I'm fine," he quietly assured him. "Go on back to bed."

Not that Alfred had any intention of obeying his subtle request to leave him alone. No, that would have been much too simple. And if Bruce had learned anything about his longtime companion, erstwhile partner, and faithful co-conspirator, it was that he wasn't going to ever take the easy road.

"Are you sure? I can make a spot of tea if you would like."

 _Earl_ _Grey_ was Alfred's go to cure-all for everything. If not for the nagging sensation presently clawing at him, he might have been amused.

"Tea is not going to help me figure out my present dilemma, Alfred."

"And what dilemma is that, sir?"

"The one asleep next door."

Alfred's eyebrows crept up a fraction of an inch. It was the only outward reaction he would allow himself. Nothing surprised the staid and proper butler.

"You mean Miss Prince?" At Bruce's nod, Alfred frowned. "And why is Miss Prince a dilemma? I rather thought you enjoyed having her here."

"I do enjoy having Diana here," Bruce confirmed quietly. "My relationship with Diana is the only thing that has kept me from going stir-crazy all these many months I have spent recovering from my injuries."

"I am afraid I do not understand what the problem is, sir."

"That is the problem."

In the twilight, Bruce swore he saw a slight twinkle in those rheumy eyes. "I realize being happy is a shock to your system…" Alfred paused. "But it is not an illness or injury you can make yourself get over."

Bruce refrained from snorting.

"You didn't hear what she said to me the other night, Alfred." He moved to take a seat on the bench in front of his bed. "You didn't see her looking at me..."

"Like a woman who loves and supports you? Who does not believe that your injury changes you in any way whatsoever? Or," he added with a pointed look, "makes you any less of a man?"

He wasn't surprised that Alfred knew what Diana said. He long suspected the butler could be blind and deaf and still know everything that happened here in Wayne Manor.

"And all of that is problematic."

"Why?"

"Diana is a woman who deserves more than a broken and bitter man..."

"Who has given everything he has to protect not only the city of Gotham from the sickness trying to infect it but the entire world?" Alfred's tone was curt. "A man who sent his own children out into the world to remind people feeling lost and abandoned that they are not alone? Not so long as there is still breath in the bodies of those who have dedicated their lives to ensuring their survival."

"I know what I did, Alfred." Bruce rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. "But that doesn't change that Diana deserves to..."

"Be with someone who thinks and believes as she does?" Alfred sat in a chair across from him and stared Bruce in the eyes. "Never forget that Miss Prince stands for the same things that you do."

"Even you know that when we want to win a war that we call upon Diana," Bruce remarked dryly. "She is far superior to all of us, Alfred."

"Indeed, sir." Alfred's lips lifted into a faint smile. "Which is what makes you more than evenly suited in both your personal and professional lives. You do not walk above or below the other. You do not see each other as being less or more than the other. You bring the best out of each other."

"I do not wish to become a burden to her, Alfred."

"It would seem that the only one who holds that opinion is you. You are the one who has chosen to exile yourself away from the world and your family."

"It is not like I have had much of a choice in the matter, Alfred." Frustration sang in every syllable. "This leg of mine has not healed." He gripped his cane tightly. "It may never heal."

"It may not," the butler agreed with a nod. "But that does not prevent you from living. Or," he added with a small sniff that was eerily reminiscent of the one Raya used when she was annoyed, "from still being an active member of this family."

"Dick is Batman now, Alfred."

And had been ever since his accident left him unable to walk without the aid of a cane or crutches. It hadn't been easy to pass the cape and cowl to him, but it had been for the best. The world needed Batman. _And there is nobody better than Dick to take over that role_.

"Yes, Master Richard is Batman now," Alfred agreed. "And he makes an admirable replacement. However, he is not _you_. He will never _be_ you."

"He's far better than I ever was, Alfred."

Alfred adjusted the lapels of his robe before he replied.

"Your children still look to you to set the tone, Master Bruce. They always will look to you. Even after you are gone they will still look towards your example for how they should proceed. You're their father as much as you are their mentor and partner. You're an irreplaceable member of this family."

Bruce rose and limped to the window.

"I don't want them to become me, Alfred." Every word he spoke was another tear in his heart. "I want them to become more than I am. I want them to have more than I did. And," he said with a long sigh, "I want Dick, Tim and even Jason to find that balance I never could find between my public and private lives." He glanced back at the older man. "I want them to figure out ways of being both men and heroes."

"You have raised six remarkable children," Alfred said smartly. "You have taught them that there are consequences in this world and that nobody is above them. You have shown them how to not only protect and defend themselves from the monsters that are outside the Manor's walls but pushed them into showing others how they can survive, as well. Everything they are is because of what you taught them."

"They needed a parent more than they needed a mentor, Alfred." Bruce heaved another sigh. "Especially Jason. I couldn't see it at the time. I refused to let myself see just how much he needed me as his parent and not his mentor."

"Master Jason needed Bruce Wayne as much as he needed Batman." Alfred smiled softly. "Much like another of your children."

"You mean Raya."

"Miss Raya has always needed you as much as she did Batman. She still needs you, sir. She always will." That twinkle was back in his eyes. "No matter how old _she_ gets or how infirm _you_ get, she will still need you."

Bruce snorted a laugh.

"She has grown into her own, Alfred."

"Miss Raya may well have come into her own as a leader but that does not mean she does not still need you."

"Bane named her Fénix," Bruce said as he slowly turned towards him. "That's what she is, Alfred. The child born in darkness, consumed by the flame and who was reborn from her own ashes to bring hope back to a world that has none."

"Then may I suggest that you do what you taught her to do?"

Bruce glanced at him, instantly suspicious. "And what's that, Alfred?"

"You rise, Master Bruce." The ends of Alfred's lips curled. "You rise."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life has been good to you!


	5. Five

The elevator came to a stop with only the barest of sounds. Alfred stepped out into the vast cavern that made up the Batfamily's central base of operations. He made his way down the staircase, only barely hearing the soft chirps and flaps of wings as the cave's other inhabitants returned from their nightly jaunt.

 _Must remember to refill the feeders_ , he thought as he ascended a set of short steps and found Master Richard, still partly dressed in the Batsuit, slouched in front of the main computer station. A large, high-definition flat screen monitor dominated the wall in front of him. Seven linked Cray supercomputers hummed quietly, providing the family with enough data storage and computing power to keep them abreast of any situation that might arise in these troubling times.

Master Richard's eyes remained glued to the screen in front of him. In the glow cast from the monitor, his face was gray with exhaustion and a good dose of grief. Sympathy welled inside Alfred, as it always did when it came to a member of this family. However, he was honest enough to admit that he felt the most strongly for Master Richard. The young man had endured much in his life. Loss swirled around Master Richard as easily as the ends of the cape draped over his shoulders.

Now he had been thrust into the role he had long tried to avoid, not because of choice, but out of necessity. Making things more complicated was that _Batman_ was having to deal with the usual assortment of criminal activity while contending with the remnants of infected still roaming around the city. There had been no time for Master Richard to figure out how to approach being the Dark Knight in this changing world, much less find a way to balance his new responsibilities with his ones as husband and father.

"Long night, Master Richard?"

Only silently did he add, _Or should I say long day since you started your patrol before the sun even set_.

Batman patrolling during the day was not a common occurrence. The only other time Alfred had seen Batman work during the day had followed the death of Jason Todd at the hands of that diabolical fiend, The Joker. Then, the reason had been a father's overwhelming grief at the loss of his son. Now? He heaved a soft sigh. Now it was often a necessity for him to go out during the day.

"Every night is a long one, Alfred," Master Richard mumbled as he continued staring at the computer monitor. "Has been ever since things went straight to hell."

Alfred sent a quick look at the monitor to see what held Master Richard's attention. One brow winged up as he spied the map of the state of Virginia splashed across the screen.

"Are you checking to make sure that things are well?"

"Everything is fine," Master Richard uttered in a low, dark tone. "As far as I know, anyway."

A faint smile curved Alfred's lips.

"Meaning you do not know and worry that Robin and Red Robin have run into a spot of trouble, but are not being honest about it."

"I am not as paranoid as Bruce." Master Richard then made a face. "And if I ever do get as bad as him, I give you my full permission to do whatever is necessary to bring me back to my senses."

"I shall certainly do my very best," Alfred assured the younger man with a small smile. "This family certainly cannot handle another cynical and paranoid man."

A small smile graced Master Richard's face. "Don't let Bruce hear you say that."

"It is not as if he can disagree with the assessment."

"No, he cannot." Master Richard then cast a surreptitious glance at the tray Alfred held in front of him. "Please, tell me that is coffee I smell."

"It is." Alfred set the tray on top of a cabinet that was not covered by a mountain of papers, folders or books. "And some fresh-baked muffins and oranges from the tree that Master Damian planted before he was sent south with Miss Quinn."

"Alfred." Master Richard looked ridiculously close to tears as he slowly got up to pour himself a cup of coffee from the silver carafe. "You deserve sainthood for all you do for this family."

Alfred felt a real smile tremble upon his lips for the first time in weeks.

"Did Miss Raya not check in a few days ago?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of the fragrant brew. "Or was that Master Timothy?"

"It was Tim telling us that they were going silent because they suspected Slade Wilson had hacked into their communication system."

"So, you are sitting here and worrying yourself into a state and not trusting they will reach out to you should they find themselves in need of Batman."

"I'm sitting here and worrying myself into a state because Raya ordered them to go silent." Dick resumed his vigil in front of the computer. "And yes, it has me concerned. It has Barbara and Jason as concerned as I am." He shot a look at Alfred. "Jason is threatening to travel to Virginia if she doesn't send word that they are safe in the next day or two."

It was not, Alfred knew, an idle threat. Master Jason had wanted to travel south when communication with Miss Raya had been lost. Only logic and a carefully worded suggestion about how he should go and bring Master Richard and Miss Barbara home had changed Master Jason's plans. That ploy wouldn't work to keep the younger man in Gotham. _Not this time, anyway_ , Alfred thought as he stirred cream into his coffee.

"Master Timothy or Damian will certainly reach out to..."

"No," Master Richard grumbled. "They wouldn't. They will follow her orders and maintain radio silence. Especially Damian. He would opt to handle Wilson himself rather than call for help."

"He is very much like Master Bruce in that regard."

 _And like you_ , he added silently.

"And is being trained by the female equivalent of Bruce."

"Master Richard..." He set a hand upon the man's shoulder. "They will reach out to you if there is a need to do so."

Master Richard was silent. At first, Alfred thought his young master was just trying to come up with one of his typical wisecrack quips to cover up how upset he was by this radio silence. When Alfred felt the shoulder beneath his palm slump and saw that proud head fall forward, he knew this went well beyond one of Master Richard's dark and brooding mood. This man he loved as if he was his own was hurting. And he was hurting, _badly_.

"Why radio silence, Alfred? That's what I can't figure out."

"I cannot be certain of why they have chosen this route," Alfred replied honestly. "However, if I was to try to figure out their decision, I would say this is their way of keeping Slade Wilson from gaining access to the Bunker."

"No, Alfred," Master Richard told him on a fractured breath. "There's more to it than that. I can feel it."

"And what do you think is the reason for why they have chosen radio silence?"

"They don't need me."

 _My dear boy_... was the only thought that rolled through his mind. _Is that what you think? That they don't need you_?

"Miss Raya and Masters, Timothy and Damian will always need you, Master Richard," he assured him gently. "Same as they will always need Master Bruce. You are the most important men in their lives."

"I'm not her Knight anymore." Master Richard raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. "I... dammit, Alfred." His fist slammed down upon the console. "She _asked_ me to come to Atlanta before the virus broke out and I told her I couldn't _._ " He shifted his head around to stare up at the butler with eyes that were deep, dark swirling pools of torture. "I was fixated on that case I was working and couldn't afford to leave Blüdhaven. _"_

"And Miss Raya understood that you were busy and said you could come down after you finished the case."

"And then the virus hit..."

"Neither of you knew that this virus was going to happen."

"But she hasn't forgiven me for not coming to Georgia when she asked, Alfie."

"Has she told you she has not forgiven you?"

"No." He heaved a long, weary sigh. "But I know that is why she doesn't ask me to come down to Virginia. She doesn't believe I will." His eyebrows lowered down over his nose. "Maybe I deserve it. If I..."

"Master Richard," Alfred cut in smartly. "Have you stopped to consider that why Miss Raya has not asked you to come to Virginia is because she knows that you have more than enough here in Gotham to worry about?"

"Perhaps," Master Richard allowed. "But Bruce..."

"Ordered her to make contact once a week to keep him abreast of what was happening down there," Alfred finished for him. "Yes, I am well aware of Master Bruce's orders. However, have you considered that things are very chaotic and Miss Raya would not want to ask you to come and help with a man as dangerous as Slade Wilson unless she was absolutely certain he was in the vicinity?"

"I've thought about how that could be the reason..." Master Richard admitted with a slight nod of his head. "But she knows better than that, Alfred. She knows I would fly to Virginia without any hesitation whatsoever."

"And maybe that is why she doesn't ask you to come down there."

"Because I would?" He sniffed. "Be just like the stubborn woman, actually."

"She knows you are needed here in Gotham."

Master Richard fell silent after that. Alfred turned to pour himself a cup of coffee from the carafe.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Richard?"

"What am I supposed to do here?" He lifted his head to stare at the monitor. "I know she's in trouble. I can feel it."

"Be patient, Master Richard," he said. "Miss Raya will ask you to come to Virginia when the time is right."

"Maybe..."

He reached over to squeeze the young man's shoulder. "Endure, and have patience. All will turn out right in the end."

"Do you promise, Alfie?"

"I promise, Master Richard."

…

Bruce had grown up in Wayne Manor, in its original incarnation, at least, and so knew the layout of the upstairs landing almost as well as he did that of the labyrinthine tunnels under the manor. That the big house had undergone a few renovations since it had come into his hands was a bit of an understatement. His lips crooked up at the corners as he considered all the changes he had made to the Manor in the past twenty-five years.

It was more than simply carving out the extensive subterranean cave system below the Manor and turning it into a base of operations he could work from. The primary way of accessing the Batcave was still in the huge study downstairs. He had taken great pains to have the antique grandfather clock, a relic left by one of his ancestors, restored after the great earthquake that destroyed much of the Manor.

The clock hid a secret set of stairs that could only be accessed by setting the hands to 10:48, the time of his parents' death. However, he decided to add a secondary access in his upstairs study for those times when he needed to get to the Cave and quickly. Tapping a few certain keys on the old piano opened a panel that concealed a small elevator.

 _An elevator that has seen much use since I had it installed_ , he thought as he paused in the middle of the hallway. Access to the Batcave wasn't the only thing he had upgraded over the years. Wayne Manor itself had also seen many upgrades. An electric-eye alarm-system controlled from a sliding panel in the library and large metallic plates beneath the manicured lawns that acted as giant tasers kept out all but the most intrepid intruders. He'd made additional changes to the house itself. He fortified the structure, turning it into a veritable fortress that could only be damaged by a direct hit by high-powered weapons.

Solar panels and a hydro-powered generator down in the Batcave had been the last two upgrades he managed to make to the Manor. Both had been a way to not only make sure that the house and Cave were furnished with environmentally friendly electricity, but would help provide the rest of Gotham with a sustainable energy source, as well. _Clark thought I was being paranoid when I had them installed. Said there was no need to make such radical additions_. He heaved a soft sigh. _Guess they weren't so radical, were they, old chum_?

Not that Clark was there to see how necessary the additions had become. Nobody had seen Clark in more than two years. Some believed he had gone to one of the many other universes they had uncovered. Bruce knew that wasn't true. Clark Kent would sooner poison himself with kryptonite than turn his back on humanity. What had happened to him, though? It was the six-million-dollar question. _I will find out_ , he thought as he continued down the hall towards Diana's set of rooms. He leaned heavily upon his cane as he went, favoring his leg even more than usual. It was more humiliation and frustration atop the pile.

His gaze shifted towards the open door leading to the sitting room between Raya and Dick's bedrooms. Was it his imagination or was the door slightly more ajar than it had been when he and Diana left the room earlier that evening? Nobody else besides Alfred was about at this hour. Diana, Barbar, and her son, Richie were all in bed. Jason and Jim had not returned from their patrol shifts, and Dick was still down in the Cave. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

 _So, who is in the sitting room_? He questioned as he slowly made his way over to the door. _And how did they manage to get in without setting off the alarm_?

Well, he was certainly about to find out.

His lips peeled back in the first smile he had smiled in days.

…

The sitting room was exactly as she remembered it. Despite the urgency of her mission, she couldn't resist taking a moment to appreciate the exquisite decor. She did so love expensive things. _Careful_ , she warned herself. _Can't afford to dawdle. Not when I need to deliver this message_. A set of framed photos, a few with pictures that were slightly yellowed from age, occupied a place of honor upon a table. She recognized Martha and Thomas Wayne, tragically murdered in an alley over four decades ago. Another frame had a picture of a scowling boy with big blue eyes and a cowlick.

 _Damian_ , she mused, as she reached out to pick up the picture. _Bruce's youngest son. The latest to serve the world as Robin. Sent to Virginia to serve as an apprentice to the woman who was also trained by his father_. Other pictures occupied other positions of prestige. Each row was a reminder of how tight-knit a unit the Wayne family was. _They prove that family does not begin with blood, but with love_ , she thought as she ran her finger across the gilded frames.

Finally, she moved on to the large mahogany writing desk against a far wall. Reaching into a pouch built into her skintight suit she retrieved the letter she was too secret into a special compartment built into the writing desk.

"What are you doing here?"

Startled, she spun around to see Bruce standing in the doorway. He looked quite unlike the dashing billionaire playboy she remembered. He was leaning heavily on a cane but still looked intimidating nonetheless. She found herself impressed, despite the fact she could easily outrun him if she chose. She couldn't remember the last time they had played a game of cat and mouse. A perverse desire to make him chase her invaded her, but she banked it.

"Selina?"

"Fenix sent me," she purred as she strolled towards him. "She asked me to leave a message for Nightwing." She paused in front of him and cocked her head to the side. "But he is not Nightwing anymore, is he?"

"He's not," Bruce confirmed. "He's Batman now."

"And why is that? Hm?"

Not that she couldn't figure the reason out for herself.

"Don't play coy, Selina. You can see for yourself why he is Batman."

She waved towards his leg. "When did it happen?" A pause. "And why did you not tell Fenix about it?"

"It happened a while ago. And I did not tell Fenix about it because I don't want her knowing about it." He stared at her for one long moment. In the depths of his eyes was a silent plea. "She is not to know about my injury or the fact that Dick is now Batman. Is that clear?"

And the reason for that was because the Fenix would race home to care for him and support her best friend in his new role.

"Crystal." She would debate whether she would honor her word once she got back to Virginia. "Care to tell me about how it happened?"

"Why don't you tell me about the message that Fenix sent to Nightwing?"

Selina lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "It was just a request."

"A request?" One dark brow feathered up. "A request for what?"

"For him to look into the Joker toxin and see how it influences the virus causing the undead."

"Why?" Bruce slowly limped after her. "What's happened?"

Selina slowly wandered around the room as she debated whether she should break Fenix's confidence. The years spent loving each other, managing to work together as allies, and respecting each other despite their differences convinced her to tell him the truth.

"There has been a change in the infected."

"What kind of change?"

"Some of them have developed..." She grimaced, knowing her next words would not please him at all. "Well, some of them have developed a clown-like grin."

"A clown-like grin?"

She nodded as she paused in front of a painting of a Wayne ancestor. She glanced at him over one shoulder.

"A clown-like grin," she repeated softly. "Just like The Joker's."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!

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	6. Six

She had the prettiest set of goddamn eyes he had ever seen on a woman.

Mist green, like the paint on that '70 Chevelle he drove Lucille to their Winter Formal in.

Lime green, like the shag carpet whatever shithead had installed in their first house.

Emerald green, like that silk dress Lucille wore the last time he took her out to dinner and a movie.

He stopped his jolly jaunt down memory lane before he even got a fourth of the way down the path. It wasn't that he didn't want to remember his beautiful Lucille.

He did.

Shit, there was no way he'd ever forget his Lucille. Bash his goddamn brains in and he'd still remember her. She was his first thought every morning and his last thought before he closed his eyes at night. Even after all these years, she was still the most important woman in his life.

She was, and always would be, his entire world.

He named his bat after her so that he could carry a piece of her with him forever. _It's just a fucking baseball bat, though_ , he thought with a twinge of never gone hurt. _I don't love it. Not really. It's not replacing you. I fucking swear it's not_.

Nothing could ever replace Lucille.

All the good times he and Lucille had together rose in his mind despite all his efforts to stop them. There was their trip to the Grand Canyon, walking around Graceland, strolling along the ocean at Sandbridge, hearing her cheer him on as he played in that ping-pong tournament. That was all before he became a sorry shit of a husband who did the worst fucking thing a man could do to the woman he professed to love above all others.

Before she got sick.

Before he did the second most unforgivable thing a man could do to the woman he loved.

His Lucille, nothing but a pile of dusty bones left on a hospital floor because he didn't have the balls to go back and lay her to rest properly.

That, more than anything, was why he didn't want to take a trip to Negan-land. He didn't need his emotions fucking him raw. The only thing he wanted at that moment was to be balls deep in the woman whose delectable body was draped in the silk dress he got one of the women to make her.

And excuse the shit outta him, but he could almost swear those big green eyes were all but begging him to cart her off into some nice, quiet little corner and screw her until his dick broke off inside her.

Not that the goddamn woman would admit that was exactly what she really wanted him to do.

Hell no.

Be too easy.

And Fin was not one thing: _easy_.

 _That's what makes getting her cute_ lil' _ass in bed so much fun_. Negan's smile deepened as he prowled towards her. Opportunity had come knocking and he fully intended to open the door to it. He was in full hunt mode. All he needed to do now that he had located his prey was capture her. _And savor my victory_. Inwardly, his grin was the essence of predatory. Outwardly, his expression said absolutely nothing at all.

Fat Joey materialized from out of nowhere. Where the hell he had been lurking, Negan didn't know. And he didn't give a shit. The obtuse bastard was cockblocking him and he didn't appreciate it one bit. _Not cool_. Negan shot him a mildly annoyed look from the corner of his eye. _You have absolutely no clue how uncool this shit is_. Well, he'd get rid of the rotund sonuvabitch right quick.

"Treat her like a lady," he told him as he handed him, Lucille. "Stroke her gently." He kept his eyes locked on the woman just a few steps away, letting her know his words carried a double meaning. "Make sure she goes to sleep with a smile."

He didn't have to look at the obese bastard's face to know there was a look of absolute confusion stamped upon it. The sorry shit wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was damn loyal and good for a laugh or two. Besides that, he was proving useful at keeping the herd away not only from the Sanctuary but his other holdings, as well.

Still, the man did need a cattle-prod stuck up his ass sometimes to properly motivate him. He glanced at him, saw Fat Joey was staring at Fin with something akin to admiration and longing. As if the fat sonuvabitch stood a chance with a woman as classy as Fin.

"I just gave your ass an order."

What would happen if Fat Joey didn't move his ass wasn't something that needed elaborating upon. The rotund shithead held what would happen if he didn't get going. Lucille might have had her thirst satisfied when he cracked open that second sorry shit's skull, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be thirsty again soon. Amusement swam through him as he watched Fat Joey haul ass. Then his attention returned to the woman whose scent was already twisting his insides into knots. He prowled the remaining distance to where Fin stood.

There was nothing he'd like more than to worship each one of the curves on display before him. The dress he had personally given her flowed down her body in a waterfall of emerald-green silk, leaving one arm and those long, coltish legs of her free for him to gaze upon to his heart's content.

Negan had met a lot of women since this shit mess started. Quite a few of them had been a lot more gorgeous than Fin. However, there was one thing that put her in a league all her own: Fin had a brain inside that head of hers. _And she sure as shit ain't afraid to use it._

Those brains, combined with that sweet ass body was why he always acted like a randy teenager whenever she was around. Only distantly did he think about how much like his wife Fin was. Lucille called him out on his bullshit all the time, didn't take his shit without giving it right back, and would speak her mind even when he didn't want to hear it.

She wasn't afraid of him any more than Fin...

The thought brought him up short. He would have explored it further but the sound of silk rustling turned his attention back too much more pleasurable thoughts. He drew abreast of Fin and smiled wide.

"Well, aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?"

"What do you plan to do with the Alexandrian's?" She asked in lieu of a greeting. "Beyond forcing them to provide for you, of course."

He ignored her question, too focused on his goal of getting her in his bed, naked as the day she came into the world, and screaming until she was hoarse.

"What? No kiss hello?" He flashed a grin. "No hi, how're you? I was just thinking about you? Or I missed you?"

She issued a small little _harrumph_ before grumbling, "Would you please be serious?"

"I'm being perfectly serious." He leaned down so he could whisper in her ear, "I seriously am picturing you naked and beneath me."

"Gee, there's a surprise."

Even her sarcastic tongue turned him on. He switched tactics, sensing she was uptight and edgy about something. Not that he needed many clues about what the _something_ was.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I missed you?"

It was the truth. He _had_ missed her. She had only been gone overnight but it was twenty-four hours too many for him. He enjoyed their back-and-forth banter, heated debates about the books they read, hell, even the quiet conversations they had about this shit world they were struggling to survive in. He missed having her cute li'l ass cuddled up next to him in bed, the feel of her warm and real under his palm, and her breath drifting across his skin as she slept.

He especially found himself missing the feel of her hand curved over his heart.

"No, it wouldn't surprise me." She shifted so she could look up at him. "There's not much about you that does surprise me, Negan. Not anymore."

"Did you miss daddy?" He edged closer, caging her between him and the wall next to his bedroom door. "C'mon, you can admit it."

"I keep telling you that you're not my daddy," she drawled. "And yes, I admit that a part of me did miss you." Her eyes flickered with a hint of mischief and something else that had the blood shooting to his lower appendage. "For all of thirty seconds."

"Aw, why don't you come inside and sit on my lap?" He dropped his voice an octave. "You can whisper in my ear about all the ways you'd like me to use to make up for me sending you to check on that issue at the Chemical Plant."

"Negan..." she said with a long, weary sigh. "Be serious, please."

"I am being serious," he replied as the scent of flowers and woman rose up and surrounded him until he thought he'd drown. "Pleasuring you is both a delight and honor."

Another sigh cruised along his already overheated flesh, stimulating what few senses weren't already jumping with anticipation.

"Could you try to pay attention here?"

"I'm trying, darlin', but you're just too much of a temptation for me to ignore."

She didn't reply to that. Not that he expected her to.

"What is it that you have planned for the Alexandrian's?" Her tone was as sharp as the barbs wrapped around Lucille. "Now that you have them under your control, I mean."

"What does it matter to you about what I am going to do with them sorry pieces of shit?"

"Just answer my question."

"Ahem?"

The look she gave him would have withered the balls on a bull. Negan found himself more than a little impressed. And hornier than a Catholic priest on the first day of kindergarten at an all-boys school.

"Please, answer my question?"

"Repeat it." His lips spread wide. "Just that word."

She muttered something under her breath he chose to ignore.

"What is it that you have planned for the Alexandrian's now that you have them under your control?"

Negan leaned back to study her flawless face. Nothing showed but for a bone-deep weariness, he understood far better than he wanted to admit.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean what am I doing here?" A frown feathered her brow. "I live here, don't I?"

"You do, yes," he confirmed with a nod. "But I thought you were pissed at me for sending my men to kill the men who killed my men who ended up killing even more of my men?"

"I am still pissed off at you about that. Don't think that my being here in any way negates that."

 _Color me surprised._

"Then why the fuck are you here? I thought you were going to check out that bullshit situation at the Chemical Plant and go visit with the Savior over at Hilltop?"

"I did check things out at the Chemical Plant," she grumbled. "Then I realized what you meant by sending me there and came back to try and stop you." She sent him a long look from beneath lowered lashes. "Clearly, I failed to do that since you're standing here all proud of yourself."

"They killed my men and tried to take my shit." _Had you been at that depot an hour longer_ , _the sons-of-bitches_ _could have hurt you_. That part he didn't tell her. The less that Fin knew about why he went after Prick the way he did, the more comfortable and in control he felt. "They will now provide for me."

"And two wrongs somehow make a right here?" She shook her head. "C'mon, Negan. You know as well as I that-"

"Enough," he ordered brusquely. "I'm not in the goddamn mood to stand here and get another of your lectures about how my way of handling rule breakers is wrong."

"Because underneath that huge pile of male testosterone and ego, you know I'm right."

"Fin..."

"Negan, you know as well as I that there was a better way of resolving this than killing someone."

"What I know is that I don't want your cute lil' ass raining on my parade with your spare people bullshit."

"I should be raining on your parade." The eyes she lifted to his were achingly, brutally sad. "You shouldn't be crowing over the fact that two people are dead. You should be asking yourself if there isn't a better way to respond to situations like this."

"Rules are rules for a reason, baby doll."

"Then maybe those rules need to be amended."

Seeing those green eyes swirl with so much hurt, fear and misery felt worse than a kick to the balls. He found himself wanting to pull her into his arms, to promise that shit would be okay and that this was the worst of it. He rejected those feelings, same as he rejected that there was any bit of truth and logic to her words.

"I fucking said enough of this shit." Some of his pent-up frustration snapped out despite his efforts to keep it contained. "Them pricks were told they were going to pay and pay they did. End of subject. Understand?"

"Yes," Fin huffed. "But don't think that this argument is over." She sniffed and turned away from him. "I assure you it is not."

Oh, he had no hope of her being done roasting his nuts about his way of dealing with them sorry shits. It was an argument he had heard dozens of times before. Normally, he would let her have her goddamn say before patting her on her truly perfect ass and going his way.

Tonight, though, he could see fatigue breaking through that icy mask, haunting her eyes and stealing what color was to her face. He was about to tell her to take her ass to bed when he spied the large bruise forming on her jaw. A quick inspection revealed other bruises creeping black over the skin of her right shoulder and along part of her upper back.

"Who the fuck did this?" He pointed to the bruise on her shoulder. "Who laid a fucking hand on you?"

"I don't honestly know when or where I got that bruise."

"Bullshit, you know who the fuck it was that did this shit."

"No." Her voice was like tempered steel. And those eyes of hers went hard as stone. "I do not know who it was that did this. Now, drop it." A momentary pause. "Please."

He had no intention of letting this shit go, though. Someone had dared touch her. And he intended to find out who so he could introduce the sorry shit to Lucille. He took a step towards her, towering above her by a good ten inches. She angled her head back to look - _glare_ would be more accurate - at him. Not that he gave a shit about her black looks.

"Who the fuck laid their goddamn hands on you?" He growled. "Tell me and I will make goddamn sure that the shithead pays for it."

"I have told you the truth. I don't know how or when I acquired these bruises. Might have happened as I was trying to evade the dozens of undead your men were releasing to trap those from Alexandria."

A slippery, slimy swirl of guilt merged with the ball of fire burning in his belly. _Am I the sorry shit who got her hurt_? The only answer that came back was a cold and resounding _yes_. His stomach clenched, and his throat tightened. He didn't enjoy hurting women. Killing men? Well, he could do that all day. Hurting women, though? It turned his stomach. And this woman, well, she tugged at him in a way he had not thought possible. Love her? No way. However, he couldn't deny he didn't feel something for Fin that went beyond just his deep and abiding desire to lose himself inside her. He just wasn't entirely sure what that something was.

"Goddamn it all, Fin." Frustration sizzled in every word. "I told your ass to go stay at the Hilltop after you finished at the Chemical Plant."

"I was heading for Hilltop," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "I—"

"Then what are you doing here? I told you that I didn't want you caught up in this shit." His fingers traced the bruise on her shoulder. "Goddamn it, I didn't want you getting hurt."

"I know you didn't want me getting hurt." She heaved a sigh. "But what choice did I have? Another of the communities has a sick baby who needed medicine. Medicine," she added with a look at him that had guilt and annoyance doing the do-si-do in his gut, "they'd have if your morons didn't take it each month."

Negan closed his eyes and mentally counted. Yes, he appreciated her blunt honesty, intelligence, iron-will, and independence...

... when she wasn't using it on him.

"Get the fuck in there," he said with as much patience as he could muster. "I'm going to send for Carson's ass. Have him check you over and make sure that you don't have anything broken."

She harrumphed and folded her arms across her chest. "And I told you I'll be fine."

"This shit's not up for debate."

"Why are you being such a pain in the ass about this?" She muttered crossly. "It's not like it is the first time I have gotten banged up in a fight."

 _Well, it sure as shit is gonna be the last time_ , he decided as his teeth gnashed. _Her days taking risks and chances are over._

"Get in there."

"No."

Because his voice wasn't as calm or as steady as he'd have liked, he clenched his teeth and spoke through them. "I said to get in there, Fin."

"And I said no."

"Fuck that no bullshit."

For a moment, a glimpse of temper snapped in those green depths. "Look—"

"I said get your ass in there." Fin bared her teeth. Negan shot her a warning look. "Don't even fucking think about it." He nudged her into the room. "Now, get your fucking ass in there. And don't even try any of that walking with the wind shit you like to pull."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life has been good to you!


	7. Seven

Raya waited until Doc Carson and Negan left before making her escape. She headed the opposite way down the hall at a quick pace, her bare feet masking any sound as she moved among the shadows. Coming to the Sanctuary after what Negan had done to Rick and his people had not exactly been at the top of her list of activities for this morning, but there had been no other option once she realized Tarzan was missing.

A thorough investigation of the clearing revealed he had not wandered off in a feverish haze as Rick suggested

The red arrowhead she found beside a small puddle of fresh blood told her who it was that kidnapped him. The only thing she didn't know was _why_ he had taken him.

 _Why, Roy_? she silently asked the absent man as she trotted down one semi-dark corridor. _Why did you kidnap Tarzan?_

Seeing Roy leading Tarzan into the Sanctuary while she was talking with Negan had hurt worse than any bullet or knife blade ever could. Her fingers curled, nails scraping against her palms as she struggled to keep a lid on the rage and fear bubbling just beneath her skin. She'd give Roy a chance to explain himself. He deserved that much, she decided as she took a deep, calming breath.

Surely, whatever his reasons, they justified his actions. _There must be a reason for why he brought Daryl here_ , she thought as she made her way over to a small gray door. _He wouldn't have done it if he didn't have some reason for why_. If she didn't like what his reasoning for bringing Daryl here, well, she could just clean his clock.

 _I might wallop him, anyway._ A slight smile trembled upon her lips as she exited the Sanctuary. _Roy deserves at least one smack to the back of his fool head for this_ , she decided as she paused by a row of motorcycles to listen for any Saviors who might be lurking about at this early morning hour.

The only person she didn't want to find her was Negan. Anyone else and she could easily talk her way around why she was out there. He wouldn't buy any of her excuses or reasons. He would escort her back to his room, tuck her back into bed and take a seat in one of those overstuffed chairs of his to make sure she kept her "cute lil' ass" put as Carson ordered.

She pondered Negan's complex nature as she perched on the seat of one bike to wait for Roy to join her. The man could be mercurial, callously rude and downright cruel one moment but charming, keenly intelligent and coolly logical the next. Oh, he was an asshole. She made no bones about that. However, there was more to the smart-mouthed bastard than he let on. Beneath that slippery smile, slicked back hair and leather jacket was a man who this world had done the most unforgivable thing too.

Raya knew what losing a loved one felt like. Being dumped in a pot of boiling water was kinder and gentler. A twinge of that never-quite-gone grief surfaced but she set it aside when the door she exited out of slammed open less than thirty seconds later and the man she came to see emerged like an enraged bull freed from his pen.

Raya almost imagined steam pouring from his nostrils and ears as he looked around with wild eyes. If not for how annoyed she was with him, she might have teased him about being like the bull from those Bugs Bunny cartoons.

"Are you outta your goddamned mind?" Roy Harper snarled as he stalked towards her. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"One, I live here." She sent him a warning look when he scoffed. "And two, I wanted to give you five minutes to explain yourself before I decide whether or not to clean your clock."

"Don't you get how dangerous it is for you to be here right now?" He waved at her with impatient hands. "Especially in that of all things?"

Raya glanced down at the rather simple, but stylish dress she wore and then back at Roy. "And what," she drawled, one dark brow lifting, "is wrong with my dress?"

"You seriously have to ask what is wrong with you wearing something that son of a bitch gave you?"

"It's just a dress, Roy."

"It marks you as being his."

"Negan is quite aware that he does not _own_ me, Harper."

"Right," he scoffed. "I've seen how he treats you, Fe."

"So?" Raya said as patiently as she could. "I'm not one of his wives."

She didn't add that she was above Negan's wives in terms of power and actual position. She had privileges his wives didn't. She slept in his bed because she wanted to sleep in his bed. She had a say in the things they needed to accomplish. She even was allowed some sway over the punishments he delivered to rule breakers.

 _I'm raising an orphaned boy with him._

She was in love with him.

She didn't tell any of that to Roy. He wouldn't understand and would only threaten to call in the troops if she did.

"I don't care how you try to spin things in that head of yours." He glared at her. "The fact remains that he has you dressed in an outfit that marks you as his woman. And if Slade finds out about it then we will have even more problems than we already have to deal with."

"Do you know _why_ Negan gave me this dress, Roy?"

"Yeah," he growled. "Because he wants people to know that you belong to him."

"Negan gave me this dress because it made him think of me when he saw it. He said the color reminded him of my eyes."

Roy scoffed. "Of course it did."

"And," she gritted. "He wanted me to have it because this world we live in? This cold, cruel and calculating little world?" It's ugly as hell. And he wanted me to have something pretty to counter that ugliness. Something feminine to remind me I am still a woman beneath it all. And bastard or not," she said in a voice that broke. "It was a really lovely compliment.

It made me feel good about myself for a few minutes. Which," she added as she went to head back inside the building, "is exactly what he intended when he gave me the goddamn thing. And I did..." She cut a look at him from over one shoulder, saw him squirm a bit, but didn't take an ounce of mercy on him. "Until you made me feel cheap and dirty for accepting it."

...

Roy felt like a schmuck. No, he felt lower than a schmuck. Hurting Raya was the last thing he intended when he came out to confront her about showing up at the Sanctuary.

He hadn't meant to bust her chops about wearing some dumb dress. A piece of cloth was the least of their concerns.

 _That_ _one-eyed bastard was in contact with Negan just yesterday_. Still, he owed her an apology for having jumped down her throat about wearing that stupid dress. Especially since the only reason she was even at the Sanctuary was because of what _he_ had done.

He felt a twinge in his gut as he scraped his fingers through his hair. Raya would have figured out he was the one who kidnapped the hunter sooner or later. She was too skilled a detective not to piece together the who, what, when, where, and how. She just wouldn't know the why.

The answer to that question would have brought her to the Sanctuary so she could question him directly. It wasn't like he hadn't known he would have to explain his reasons for kidnapping the hunter. _I was just hoping she wouldn't figure it out for a few days_...

A few days wasn't an option and now he needed to face the music. He also needed to apologize for running his big mouth. Part of him wished he was six and could just be sent to his room without dinner. Or have his mouth washed out with soap. Neither was an option.

Not with guilt, shame and the memory of the hurt on her face twisting his insides into pretzels.

"Dammit, I'm sorry, Fe."

"What?" She paused on the steps and glanced back at him. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry." He ran a hand over the back of his head. "I didn't mean to..."

"Forget it," she interjected in a cool tone. "It's been a long night for all of us."

"That doesn't excuse me from having just been a complete asshole to you."

"No, it doesn't." Raya turned towards him. "And I know that you don't like me wearing this dress because you perceive it as him marking me as his, but I figured that coming here in this was far less likely to make him suspicious than if I showed up in some variant of my armor. He's not stupid, Roy. He's much more perceptive than we give him credit for." She heaved a soft sigh. "I am honestly surprised that he hasn't pieced together that I am not telling him everything about myself."

So was he. It was another reason her coming to the Sanctuary was getting more dangerous. Negan could not discover she was Fenix.

"Why didn't you just radio me to let me know you wanted to talk?"

"I did radio you, meathead," she drawled. "Both Robin and I tried to radio you after we discovered you were the reason for why Tarzan was suddenly missing."

Roy felt the last of his annoyance evaporate in the wake of hearing how she and Robin had tried to radio him before she came here. How could she have radioed and him not have heard it? _Even if I didn't have my communicator on, I still have my... what the hell_? he wondered as he reached into the pocket where he normally stuck his backup walkie...

...only to find that said walkie was not there as he thought it was. He frowned as he tried to figure out just where he'd left the damned thing. Then it clicked: Hilltop. He must have forgotten it in his haste to get over to the clearing and help with doing… _anything_.

He gave her a grin that edged towards sheepish.

"Sorry?"

Raya shook her head before muttering, "You better be thankful I like you, Harper." She shot him a quick, playful smirk then. "And considering how I am the only one out of the three dozen cops or so that you've befriended throughout the years..."

"Hey, I can't help it if cops have a hard-on for me."

"Well, if you weren't breaking any laws at the time when they ran into you..."

Roy rolled his eyes. He really didn't have the time or patience to stand here and trade quips with her about his _admittedly_ lengthy rap sheet.

"I'm guessing you want me to explain about why I kidnapped Tarzan?" He saw her give a slight nod of her head. "And brought him here to the Sanctuary and not to the Bunker?"

"Just tell me why you brought him here." She lifted her eyes to his. "That's all I want to know at this point, Roy. Why _here_."

His gut clenched at seeing the pain swirling in the depths of her eyes. He looked away and cleared his throat.

"He's safest here."

"He's safest here?" Surprised confusion laced her voice. "Is that what you said? He's safest here?"

"Yes." He nodded. "That's what I said."

"And how do you figure that, Roy?" she questioned as she began to pace in small, slow circles upon the step she stood. "How do you figure he is the safest in the Sanctuary of the man who just bludgeoned two of his friends to death? And psychologically traumatized the rest?"

"You have to trust me on this, Fe," he said quietly. "He is safest here."

"Negan is going to torture him, Roy."

"I know he will torture him."

She continued as if he hadn't even spoken.

"He will do everything in his power to break Daryl, to shift his allegiance from Rick, and make him his slave."

"Again," he tried, but she held a hand up to silence him. He consented to her request, not happily, but figured he owed her the chance to vent.

"He will beat him, starve him of food, humiliate him in ways that would make even the Joker proud." She looked at him with eyes that glowed with anger and fear. "And you think he is safest here?" She shook her head at his silent nod. "Why?" she demanded. "Why do you believe that Daryl is safest here? Why not in the Bunker?"

Why not with _her_. It was what she wanted to say. He knew it and she knew it. Only, he was rational enough to see why Daryl couldn't go to the Bunker. He didn't have personal feelings involved like Raya did. His decisions weren't solely based on what _he_ wanted, but what was best for everyone involved. Something he tried to impress upon Raya.

"Fe, as loyal as the Sirens are to you, as much as they'd bend over backward to do anything you asked, many of them have husbands and sons who are still in service to Negan. Daryl would be a bargaining chip for many of them. One they wouldn't be able to resist using no matter how much they respect and follow you."

"Don't you see that he can't take what Negan will do to him?" Her voice cracked. "He's not strong-"

"You have to believe he is strong enough to take whatever Negan dishes at him."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why do I have to believe that? Huh?"

"Because you know that no matter what Negan will do to him," he calmly explained. "It won't be anything near what Slade Wilson will do to him if he gets his hands on him."

Roy saw her face drain of color as realization dawned. Cold hard logic. That was how one dealt with a moody and emotionally overwrought Fenix. Give her irrefutable facts and point out unarguable truths. That was the way to get her to see why his decision, while not the greatest of ones, was for the best.

"You know what'll happen if Slade Wilson ever manages to get his hands on him."

"Slade Wilson?" Her eyes narrowed into thin, green slits. "Slade Wilson has been here at the Sanctuary?"

Her tone was harsher, sharper than her regular one. It was throatier even than the rasp she had cultivated for her alter ego. Something dark and slippery he couldn't quite lay his fingers upon lurked beneath that tone.

And it had his belly curling into knots.

"No, it wasn't here at the Sanctuary."

"Where was it then?" She slowly eased down the stair towards him. "And how long ago since he was seen?"

Roy felt as if he had awoken a sleeping lioness. Her eyes were different. Greener. Sharper. Predatory. Raya had always been moody, unpredictable, and just a bit on the untamed side.

 _This_ , he realized as a chill snaked his spine, _this is Fenix in full hunt mode_. Gone was the benevolent, slightly sarcastic and mildly dangerous Doctor Kean. Gone was the adorably geeky little bookworm with the kind heart and shy smile.

This was the vigilante.

Roy imagined this was what a lioness looked like when she stalked her prey.

And he was gonna make damned certain _he_ wasn't the monster she hunted.

"Slade met with Negan at that old church about ten miles back last week."

"Do you know what they might have discussed?"

"No," Roy admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Negan ordered me and the other men he brought with him to stay outside. Whatever it was that they discussed, though? He wasn't happy about it."

Raya made a low, speculative hum deep in her throat. "He was likely told not to kill any of the Alexandrian's."

That shot both of his eyebrows up to his hairline. "Why would Slade order him not to kill any of the Alexandrian's?" He shook his head. "That doesn't sound like Slade at all."

Not the Slade _he_ knew anyway. No, the Slade he knew had absolutely no problem in killing whoever or whatever got in his way.

"Slade doesn't know who Rick and Daryl are. He only knows them as the sheriff and hunter."

"And?" Roy lifted a brow. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Slade needed the Alexandrian's alive until he had a chance to see if any of them were the sheriff or hunter." Those eyes shifted, pinned him. "That is why you kidnapped Daryl, isn't it? Why you brought him here to Negan? Because if Slade finds him, he can trade him for Rose?"

Roy told himself that he should have known she would deduce his motives for kidnapping Daryl all on her own. That keen intellect and carefully honed deductive skill were but two of the things that made the woman such a dangerous adversary. Suddenly, Roy found himself quite interested in seeing how Slade Wilson would react to meeting Fenix on the battlefield.

Something told him it was well worth the lecture he would surely get from Oliver and Tim once the battle was over. _It is worth the lecture just to see her finally put Slade in his place._

Slade Wilson was an extremely dangerous man. Oliver thought he had put the asshole down once, only for him to return, far more vicious than he had been. However, Raya was not merely looking to stop the bad guy before he could destroy the world or her family.

She was trying to keep him from taking her daughter from her.

That made her the most formidable enemy.

 _Especially since she has one card left up her sleeve that Slade isn't counting on her using_...

Raya flipped something in her right hand to him. He caught it, saw it was a key and looked at her with a brow lifted.

"Take me to Alexandria," she said before she turned to stroll to the hidden gate that led to the outside of the Sanctuary. "And keep it below the speed limit. Don't need to flip the car over because you didn't see the walker standing in the middle of the road..." She glanced at him from over her shoulder, a smirk curving her lips. " _Again_."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life has been good to you!


	8. Eight

"When did you start to notice there were changes occurring in the undead?"

Bruce asked the question as soon as everyone was gathered in the cave. The only missing members were Jason and Jim.

"Hm." Selina rolled her shoulders into a negligent shrug and sashayed over to the empty chair beside Dick. "I would have to say it was about four months ago."

Dick mumbled something unintelligible and ran a hand over his face. Bruce ignored him and kept his attention fixed upon Selina. _She is prevaricating_ , he thought, eyes narrowing. _Giving me partial answers and shrugging off the significance of this change as if it is nothing important._ His eyebrows lowered over the ridge of his nose. _She's hiding something._

Or protecting someone.

And Bruce had a feeling he knew who the _someone_ was.

"You didn't believe them developing clown-like smiles merited any sort of investigation upon the part of the Justice League?" Diana questioned as she perched on the edge of his chair. "Why?"

"We didn't think it anything more than the last victims the Joker terrorized."

"A logical conclusion to make." Diana inclined her head to look at Bruce. "The clown left many victims in his wake."

"This still should have been reported sooner."

"We didn't feel it was a significant enough change to merit an investigation."

"This information shouldn't have been kept from us, Selina." Bruce's voice went hard as tempered steel. "You know any change in the infected is to be reported immediately."

Selina took a moment to stir cream into her coffee. "We didn't think it was significant enough to report it."

"What changed?" Dick leaned forward in his chair, a pensive expression on his face. "What made Raya send you here with samples for me to test?"

"It's the Joker." Selina sent him a look from beneath lowered lashes. "That's enough to warrant sending me here with the samples."

"The Joker has never done things simply." Bruce's heart contorted at the fatigue haunting his oldest son's face. It was something he understood all too well. "His plans are always more convoluted and complex. A group of severely decayed infected with clown-like expressions would barely even gain a second look from any of you. No." Dick shook his head. "It would have to be something big to warrant this."

"You are right," Selina confirmed with a nod. "The clown-like expressions weren't what finally tipped us off."

"What did?" A faint smile creased Dick's lips. "Something caused Raya enough alarm that she sent you to break into Wayne Manor and leave a note with samples in our secret place."

"Not so secret place," Bruce informed him wryly. "We all knew about it."

"Of course, you did." A speckle of amusement softened the bite of sarcasm in his tone. "But we're getting away from the topic." He leaned back in his chair. "What happened that caused Raya to send Selina here with a request for me to look at some samples she can just as easily run for herself?"

"It was how they didn't _act_ like the other members of the infected that finally prompted her to send me here with the samples."

"How did they act?" Diana got up from her perch to pour herself some coffee from the carafe that Alfred had thoughtfully refilled before situating himself in front of the Batcomputer. "What is different about their behavior?"

"These are not the mindless infected that we have dealt with for all these years." Selina stared pensively into her cup. "These newer infected seem like they are operating with more than just the basic brain functions that the rest of their members still seem to display. It's almost like they're not actually infected."

"So, these infected are displaying more than the basic drives the others have."

"Raya says it's like they're a computer that has started to reboot. And from what I have seen?" She slowly nodded. "She's right."

The implications of the infected regaining their ability to form thoughts, plans, and other higher-order thinking processes wasn't lost on any of them.

"How does the Joker factor into this is what I don't understand," Diana said. "He's dead. How can he be involved?"

"Raya thinks his _Venom_ has bound with the pathogen and altered its original composition." Selina indicated Dick with a wave of her hand. "She wanted Dick to see if he could get his hands on a sample of his toxin and test it against the sample she sent."

Dick mumbled curses as Alfred and Diana heaved collective sighs. Bruce found himself nonplussed by this revelation. If he was honest - really honest - he would admit he had long suspected that something like this was going to happen. There was only one part that didn't make any sense.

"Why didn't Raya send word once there was a significant number of infected with these changes?"

"She didn't send word because she didn't think it was anything initially to report." Selina looked at him from over the rim of her cup. "None of us did, Bruce."

"She didn't send word because she's totally like him," Dick grumbled. "And holds things close to her chest until it becomes necessary for her to divulge what it is she knows."

"She is not like me," Bruce drawled. "If she is like anyone here, it's you."

"Raya is absolutely like you," Diana lightly teased as she perched on the edge of his seat once more. "Both in terms of her obstinacy level and her ability to hold things close to her chest."

"I wouldn't have held onto this detail." Bruce sent her a look from the corner of his eyes. "Not when it suggests the Joker might have had some plan in play while he was trying to infect me with this virus."

"That's why she did keep it close to her chest," Dick muttered. "It's the Joker. She'd avoid telling you until she was absolutely certain he was involved."

A chill swept Bruce's spine as an awful truth dawned. "No," he said slowly. "She would tell me if she suspected he was merely involved in this. What she _wouldn't_ tell me is if she suspected he was alive." He looked at Selina. "That's it, isn't it? She suspects the Joker is alive."

"Yes." Selina's eyes met Bruce's. "And he's in Virginia."

…

Raya had developed her own way of dealing with the guilt and grief that always filled her after a night spent dealing with the undead. She added a charm to a bracelet every time she granted mercy to a member of the walking dead. It was something she happened upon a short while after leaving Rick on the outskirts of Atlanta. The bands of infected had been more numerous the closer she and the kids got to Atlanta.

They had euthanized more undead than she liked or been comfortable with. Harder than putting them down was leaving them there to rot. People deserved better than becoming a pile of dusty bones. Respect and care should be given, honor given to the fallen, and a memorial erected so their sacrifice would always be remembered.

The answer for how she could assuage her emotions and pay her respects came to her after one skirmish. They had taken refuge in a small jewelry store to wait for the herd and a late summer storm to pass. Charms and the bracelets to hang them from had been among the debris littering the floor. The silver ballerina slippers and crowns, baseball bats and gloves, baby bottles and teddy bears hadn't been the sort of token she imagined using as memorials for all the infected she granted peace. And yet, they somehow seemed to make sense in the larger scheme of things.

One charm to represent every mother, father, son, daughter, princess, ballerina or baseball player lost.

One charm for all the times she put an arrow into the husk of what once had been a human being.

One charm for every time she broke Batman's one Golden Rule.

Those first few charms had been the hardest ones for her to slip onto the chain. Reconciling obeying what she had been taught from her first days as Batman's protégé against the stone-cold truth hadn't been easy. Accepting that euthanizing the infected was the kindest course of action had been a bitter pill for her to swallow. Not killing was what separated the members of her family from those men and women they brought to justice.

It was what identified them as being different from men the Joker, Scarecrow or even the leader of the Whisperers, Alpha. They were on the right side of the law. They fought for the innocent, defended the weak, and protected the helpless from the monsters lurking in the darkness. _Despite our doing things that get around and sidestep the law a lot_ , she thought as she reached into the small leather pouch for another charm.

As she slid the tiny puppy on the chain, she realized how the charms had become less of a reminder of how many times she failed Batman as much as they simply became markers.

One token for a life lost to the virus unleashed upon the world.

One charm for someone innocent that didn't deserve the hand fate dealt them.

One set of wings for every new angel that Heaven gained.

Tim had told her that time was all she needed. With time came understanding and acceptance. She still struggled periodically with her feelings of guilt and self-loathing. She was only human, after all. However, she had largely managed to come to terms with the role that this new world expected her to play. Silencing the voices hurling recriminations for having failed to uphold Batman's Golden Rule took a lot longer for her to get under control. Even then it had taken Kai pointing out how each one of the charms hanging from a chain was a reminder of what she lived and fought for to quiet the voices inside her head.

She was _Fenix_.

She stood for hope, redemption, rebirth, and renewal.

She was the light that shined through the darkness. The reminder about how there was always another way. The voice that preached how the need for vengeance could always be tempered by compassion.

The last charm she pulled from the bag, a pair of wings, made for one hundred and twenty. _A hundred and twenty charms,_ she thought as she slid the charm on the chain. How fitting was it that the charm was a pair of angel wings? _Wings for another angel_. The thought used to make her incredibly sad. Now, she found comfort in the idea that there was a Heaven.

In a world so full of death and misery, it was nice to believe there was some quiet place waiting for them after they died. _A place where_ _all those we lost in life will be waiting for us to join them when it is our time to leave this Earth_ , she mused as she set the bracelet inside the small wooden box Kai and Rose gave her for her last birthday. She then took the box and placed it in the back of the SUV she used when she drove to the Sanctuary.

"Are you sure about this?" Roy asked as he placed a black duffel bag beside the box. "I mean, Slade could be watching and waiting for you to make this kind of move."

Raya had been thinking the same thing. She glanced back at the Sanctuary, sucking on her lower lip as she contemplated if going to Rick was the right thing to do or not. _I owe it to him_ , was the only thing that kept going through her mind. If she was being honest, she would admit that she wanted to go because she wanted to check on him. Rick had suffered tremendously at the hands of Negan. Not only had he been forced to watch his friends bludgeoned to death, but he had almost been forced to cut his own son's arm off. _And then had to watch as his son was physically manhandled and nearly assaulted by a class A creep_.

"I should be the one to explain to Rick about where Daryl is and why." She turned towards him. "And I need to tell him about Slade so that he can be ready if the one-eyed son of a bitch shows up there."

"What about the Joker? Are you going to explain about the very real possibility that the most dangerous man to ever exist could actually be here?"

Raya made a face. "As much as I'd like not to tell him about the Joker, I feel I ought to. Especially," she said with a sigh, "since that damn clown is why I left him."

 _He wouldn't be in this mess if I had stayed_. She kept that thought to herself.

"You did what you thought was best given the circumstances."

"I know." She reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "That's why I should also be the one to go."

"Because you did what you thought best?"

"More because I could be required to send you or another member of the team to him with messages that I cannot bring him myself."

A smirk screwed up one corner of Roy's mouth.

"Don't wanna spring the family on him without giving the poor guy some sort of advanced warning about what to expect, huh?"

Raya snorted a laugh and closed the back door. "Would _you_ want my family dropping in on you without some sort of advanced warning?"

"Red can drop in any time," he replied as he walked around to the driver's side. "So can Kai and Rose. They're never a problem."

"So, _you_ say," she joked as she climbed into the vehicle. "Them two have gotten a lot more opinionated lately."

"Look at who their mother is."

"Hush up and drive me to Alexandria, Harper."

Roy chuckled and did as instructed.

…

Liam watched the SUV drive away through narrowed eyes. The man's chestnut colored hair was longer and had more than a few streaks of silver shot through it. His body was leaner, his skin no longer bearing that California tan, and there were stress lines around his eyes and his mouth. However, there was little doubt in Liam's mind that he wasn't looking at an alive and well Roy Harper.

 _Well, now, this is an interesting turn of events_ , he thought. _It's a very interesting turn of events, indeed_. A hum formed deep in his throat. It was the only sound save for the faint droning of the infected walking along the perimeter of the compound. Liam listened to the plaintive whines of the infected as he considered why the Red Arrow was here at the Sanctuary. Survival would be the most obvious reason.

Even the heroes had not been spared by this virus. When the plague spread like wildfire, heroes and many of their enemies had come together to respond to the threat. Many had gone out into the world to fight the hordes of infected while others searched for a way to cure them. In the end, it had not mattered if one was a hero, villain or innocent. None of them were safe from the infected. Or from the virus causing the infected.

Some of the heroes and former villains had died while in service. Others had given up. Some went on to form small encampments that focused on teaching people how to survive in this new world. And there were some, like Batman and his flock, who continued to keep watch, protecting people the best they could from those who would take advantage of them during these troubled times.

However, Liam suspected that the reason for why Harper was a member of Negan's crew was less about his own survival and more about the woman he left with. _Could she be Fenix_? He wondered as he was joined by two other men on the landing. Her height and build were about right. The color of her hair and the creaminess of her skin were similar. _If only I could have gotten a look at her eyes_ … He would know whether she was Fenix or not if she had the same shade of eyes.

"Was that her?" The man on his left, a dark-skinned man known simply as Tai, rumbled. He waved a large hand in the direction of the vehicle only barely visible in the distance. "Was that Fenix in that SUV?"

"I don't know," Liam replied softly. "I didn't see her eyes, so I can't confirm or deny whether it's Fenix or not."

"Green," was supplied by the man on his right. "Her eyes are green."

"You saw them, Dom?" A nod was given in response. "And they're green?" Another nod. "Did she also have a thin, jagged scar on her throat?"

"Yup," Dom confirmed as he searched his pockets for one of them cancer sticks he enjoyed sucking on. Liam thought it a vile, nasty habit, but kept his thoughts to himself. Dom outweighed him by five stone and topped him by about six inches. "Right where the boss said it would be." He plucked a pack of cigarettes from a pocket in his cargo pants, shook one out and stuck it between his lips before adding, "You know the man they brought in earlier?" Liam looked at him, one eyebrow lifted questioningly. "The one from the group who raided Negan's supply depot and killed his men?"

"What about him?"

"He's the hunter she was screwing down in Georgia."

"The one the boss wants us to bring him if found?"

"One and the same." Dom pulled a book of matches from a pocket in his vest. He yanked one and struck it before saying, "And you know what that means."

Liam knew exactly what it meant: they finally managed to track down Fenix.

"Go to the Foundry," he ordered Dom. "Tell the boss we've got the hunter."

"That's all you want me to tell him?" Dom blew out a puff of smoke. "That we got the hunter?"

"No. Tell him we've also found her. We've located Fenix. She's here at the Sanctuary."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life is treating you good!

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	9. Nine

Rick found himself jerking awake from one of the few snatches of sleep he managed to allow himself once he climbed between the sheets. He lay there for several minutes, a jumble of thoughts and emotions playing through his mind. He did his best to process what was real from what was the shit messing with his head but found the task difficult. Part of him hoped he would find himself back in that abandoned farmhouse he shared with Raya and not in the bedroom of the house he lived with Michonne and his kids. His hopes were quickly dashed as the familiar furnishings of his bedroom became visible.

 _Was it all a dream?_ _Was what happened to Glenn and Abraham all in my head?_ Part of him prayed it was. He desperately wanted everything that happened with Negan to turn out as some sick, twisted warning about what could happen if he wasn't more cautious. His mind had played similar tricks on him before the Governor arrived at the prisons gates with a tank. And before Alexandria was overrun by a horde of walkers.

That wasn't the case this time, though. All he had to do to see that this wasn't a macabre warning was turn his head to where his bloodstained clothing was bunched up in the chair he tossed them in before crawling beneath the sheets.

Glenn, Abraham having their skulls caved in, Carl nearly getting his arm cut off by him, Daryl's kidnapping, it all happened.

Every violent, bloody moment of it.

And it was _his_ fault.

A sound disturbed the quiet. Rick's gut twisted. _Judith_ , he thought as his pulse kicked. _I need to get to Judith_. He made to get up but heard the sound again, closer this time. He froze and held his breath. Options were rather limited at that moment. His revolver and hatchet were over in the pile of bloody clothing in the chair. Even without reaching over to the other side of the bed he knew it was empty.

The door opened with a creak that grated on his already frayed nerves. Rick's breath came out as a tattered rasp as he waited for whoever or whatever out in the hall to make its move. Suddenly, there was a soft, plaintive whine, and then a snow-white dog that looked more like some type of hybrid version of a wolfhound than it did a normal dog jumped up on the bed. Rick could only lay there and stare at the dog with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"Krypto?" He managed around his dry and swollen tongue as the dog whined and pawed at him with a foot that was easily the size of a baseball. "Is that you, boy?"

Krypto yipped before he laid down, resting his great big head on his stomach and thumping his tail in rapid succession atop the disheveled covers. The sound reminded Rick of gunfire. It was so goddamn familiar. A bit of normal inside the crazy fucked up world they lived. Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he placed a shaky hand on the dog's mammoth head and slowly stroked it. He took comfort and solace in the feel of that soft fur against his palm. Krypto let out a soft, contented sigh and closed his eyes.

"Where's your owner?" he asked him as he rubbed one silky ear between his fingers. "Didn't she come with you?"

Krypto replied with a decidedly undoglike snort and a roll of his chocolate-colored eyes. Rick imagined it was his way of calling him an idiot. _Or a moronic asshole_.

"Nobody owns Krypto," he heard Raya say dryly. "And of course, I came with him. He wouldn't be here if I wasn't with him." A snort came from Krypto and was followed by a harrumph from her. "Yes, we know that I wouldn't be here without you, too."

Rick turned his head and saw her in the opening of his bedroom. That look, the first of her unmasked in almost three years, sliced him into pieces. This version of her looked a helluva lot different from the other ones he met. This was how he imagined she would have dressed before the world went completely to shit.

Her dress, the same shade of green as her eyes, fit her loosely and left her right arm and those long legs of hers bare from mid-thigh to her feet. This would be the society princess, he realized as a fresh set of memories stirred inside him. They were churned with fresh spurts of longing, need. _Love_. He loved her in a way that was more affectionate, more protective than anything else. It was the same way he felt about Maggie and Carol.

"If you had worn that when we were traveling together," he joked with a faint smile. "I'd be a dead man now."

A smirk twisted one corner of her lips.

"What a way to go, though."

"I might still end up a dead man if Michonne sees you."

"She won't know I was here unless you tell her." She leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and tilted her head against the wood. "So, you'll get to live for a little while longer." Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "If you keep your big mouth shut."

He snorted a laugh. "Funny."

"I try."

"You succeed." Krypto protested as he sat up but shifted over with only minor grumbling. "You also said you'd try to come in a few days. Did something happen to change your plans?"

 _Are you in danger_? was what he wanted to ask. He knew it, she knew it, the dog with his head in his lap knew it. However, Rick didn't ask her if that was why she was there. _She wouldn't give me a straight answer even if she was_.

"I wanted to see you, Rick." Simple honesty echoed in every word, shimmered in her eyes. "I've missed you."

Rick softened. As he always did when it came to this woman.

"I've missed you, too. Doesn't explain why you're here, though."

"I was worried about you," she confessed. "You had a pretty hard night last night."

He didn't want her getting involved in this shit between him and Negan. _Not any more than she already is_ , he amended as Krypto nuzzled his ear deeper into his palm. He obliged the manipulative Wonderdog's request before asking the first of many questions racing through his messed up brain.

"How did you manage to get in here without anyone seeing you?"

"Come now, Rick," she chastised playfully. "You know I didn't use the conventional method of getting into your safe zone."

One eyebrow lifted. "You didn't come through the front gate?"

"More like I went _under_ it."

He indicated her attire with one hand. "In that?"

"Yes." There was a sparkle in her eyes and a vague coating of amusement upon her face. "I shimmied under your walls in a dress."

"Why didn't you just knock on the front gate? I gave orders that if a woman with a dopey dog showed up to let her in."

"I know you left orders to let me and Krypto in if we came calling," she said as she slowly made her way towards the bed. "But I needed to enter Alexandria with as few eyes seeing me as possible."

Rick studied her as he pondered why she would need to keep coming here secret. _Who is she trying to keep from discovering her presence here? And why_? Something told him that it wasn't someone he knew personally. He considered all the possibilities. _Luthor? Rose's father?_

Or was it someone else, entirely?

Raya left him in that farmhouse because something spooked her. Something caused her to pack Kai and Rose into the Bronco and leave him. He didn't know who that person was, but it didn't matter. They'd have to go through him if they wanted to get at her or her family.

 _I still have my promise to Bane to keep_ , he thought as Raya sat on the bed and reached out to scratch Krypto behind his ear. _I won't fail her as I did Glenn and Abraham. I will keep her and those children safe._

 _No matter what._

...

The expression on Rick's face tore thin slits into her already bleeding heart. For a full minute, she studied it. She committed his face to memory years ago. It was still tanned, with faint lines fanning out from the corners of blue, blue eyes. His firm jaw was concealed by a thick beard liberally streaked with gray. His brow was covered by a shock of sweat-soaked hair a rich shade of chestnut mixed with swatches of silver.

His face was leaner than she remembered it, with a long, straight nose, and a mouth that smiled easily, but far less often than it did from the looks of it. Rick might have suffered greatly since their parting and had clearly lost his way, but he wasn't gone. Not completely. He could still be redeemed.

Same as Negan.

The years and this world had not been kind to him. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, attesting to many sleepless nights, and the strain of being under constant stress. When she entered the bedroom after the warrior woman left the house, she found Rick thrashing about in bed, locked in the grips of some horrific nightmare and unable to wake himself from it.

It hadn't taken many guesses to figure out what he was dreaming about. She had done the only thing she could by gently steering his dreams to something more pleasant. _Always remember when_ , she told him as Krypto stretched his body across Rick's legs and laid his head in her lap. _It's what gets us through the bad times_.

"Who are you trying to avoid?"

Somehow, she had forgotten that he liked to focus on everyone else's problems but his own. _Well, not this time_ , she decided with a small sniff. This time he had to worry about himself before he could take on anyone else's problems.

"Rick..."

"Is it that Luthor fella you were avoiding in Georgia? Rose's father? Someone else? Dammit, Raya, tell me. They'll—"

"No." She covered his hand with her own. "Not happening. Not this time."

"Not happening?" A quizzical look crossed his face. "What's not happening?"

"You using me as a way of ignoring your own pain and grief." She slid her fingers between his and squeezed. Silent support and gentle comfort. "You can't do that this time, Rick. You gotta handle your problems before you can focus on helping me or anyone else."

"Why?" He didn't growl it. No, Rick just sounded utterly exhausted. "Huh? Why can't I focus on you and whoever it is that you're trying to keep from finding out you are here?"

Raya tamped down the snap of annoyance that burst to life inside her at his words. He didn't mean anything by it, she knew he didn't. However, she couldn't help feeling as she did. She was a leader of her own group, a skilled and trained crime fighter, and mom to two and a half teenagers. She had learned how to balance her own needs against those of everyone else. Tim, if he was there, would disagree and say it was less about her having found balance and more she liked micromanaging every little thing.

"Well?" He demanded when she didn't reply to his question. "Are you going to answer me?"

"I don't want Rose's father finding out I am here," she informed him brusquely. "Okay?"

"Rose's father." He frowned. "You mean Slade Wilson?" She nodded. "That's who you are trying to keep from seeing you here in Alexandria?"

"He's one person I don't want seeing me here, yes."

"Why?"

"Because he will come after you."

Rick snorted at that.

"Let him."

She frowned.

"He will kill you, Rick."

"He can try."

She harrumphed.

"Slade Wilson _doesn't_ try."

"Others have tried to kill me and failed," he pointed out. "I've managed to get this far without dying so I must be doing something right."

"You're not omnipotent, though."

"I know I'm not." Against hers, his fingers trembled. More from exhaustion than anything else. She ran her thumb across his knuckles anyway. Subtly soothing him as she had when they were driving along a long stretch of Georgia highway in search of a safe place to stay. "But I have faced plenty of men who have wanted to kill me and the people with me."

"Yes, well, I also don't want Negan finding out I am here, okay?" She heaved a sigh. "He has enough power over you without giving him more."

"Negan?" His eyes narrowed into thin slits. "You're a member of that asshole's group?"

She snorted. "Of course not."

"Then how do you know Negan?" Suspicion, doubt and much more coated every word. "What is the connection between the two of you?"

Was she loyal to him or Negan? That was what he really wanted to ask her. She knew it, and Rick knew it. He didn't, though. Raya suspected he didn't because he feared the answer. That, more than anything, hurt her the most. Even after everything they had gone through, all the things they shared, he still doubted her allegiance to him. She swallowed the bitterness, buried it along with all the other emotions she kept locked inside her heart. He had a right to his feelings. Time had changed them both. _Him a little more than me..._

"I told you this world was going to ask a lot of you. I warned you it would make you do unspeakable things if you let it. I even cautioned you about making the right decisions because actions having consequences. The only way to survive, I said, was by not letting the world win. Do you remember me telling you that?"

"Yes." His fingers tightened on hers. "That doesn't explain your connection to Negan, though. What is it?"

 _Moody, stubborn ass man_...

"It's complicated..." she said finally.

"Make it uncomplicated."

She rolled her eyes. "You have to understand..."

"I'm trying," he cut in. "You keep beatin' about the bush. Now, tell me what your connection to Negan is."

"Technically..." She grimaced. "We're involved."

"Involved, how?"

Silently, she wondered, _what is more than wife but less than queen?_ She settled for what she felt was closest to the truth.

"I provide goods and services for his people."

"Meaning you work for him."

"More like I operate as his keeper."

One eyebrow shot up at that.

"And when did this start?"

"About a year and a half ago."

"Why?"

"There were some women who belonged to Negan's group that started turning up dead." She reached out to scratch behind Krypto's ear. "I offered my services to find out why."

"Dying?" He cocked his head. "Infected?"

"No." She shook her head as a plethora of memories assaulted her. "They weren't infected."

"Then what do you mean by dead?"

"I mean dead as in they were murdered dead."

"Given how Negan likes to-"

She cut him off before he could finish that sentence.

"These women were beaten, raped and strangled, Rick."

"Again-"

"Negan is many things, but he's not a rapist." She reached out and brushed his hair from his face. "He doesn't raise a hand physically to a woman. And he doesn't allow it among his men, either. Any who are caught raping or abusing a woman get introduced to Lucille or the iron."

"He sure looked like he was going to introduce Michonne, Maggie, Sasha, and Rosita to that damn bat of his."

"Never," she stated firmly. "He never would have used Lucille on them."

"How do you know that for sure?" Krypto issued a low growl at Rick's harsh tone. He instantly softened it, but only a smidge. "Huh? How do you know he wouldn't have used Lucille on them?"

They were entering into territory that she wasn't ready to discuss with him. A sound in the hall bought her a few seconds to debate what to tell him without revealing more than she was willing to share.

"I have gotten to know Negan during the time I have been undercover in his group," she settled on finally. "I know he wouldn't have picked any of them. It's not the way he operates."

"Why are you still undercover in his operation?"

"Because I am keeping tabs on Slade by staying close to Negan."

His other eyebrow winged up at that. "Slade works for Negan?"

"More like the other way around."

"He works for Slade."

"He hired Negan to help with finding me and Rose." Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "He just didn't count on the fact that I would be ballsy enough to go undercover in Negan's operations to keep an eye on him."

 _Or that I would end up falling in love with the hypersexual despot_. She didn't tell Rick that for obvious reasons.

"Does Negan know?"

"Does he know I am Fenix?" At his nod, she shook her head. "No."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

The question caught her off guard. For a moment, she could only gape at him. She regained her composure before answering.

"It really is not any of your business if I am or not. You're not my fathers or brothers. I don't answer to you."

"Are you one of his wives?" He persisted. "Huh?"

"No." She didn't growl it. Truth was she was simply too exhausted. "I'm not one of his wives."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Rick..."

"Why didn't you stop him and those sons of bitches who follow him?" A muscle ticked in his jaw. It was the only clue she had about how tight a control he was keeping on his emotions. "Surely you knew what he planned for us?"

This was the question she anticipated having to answer once they were alone.

"Rick, there are things that I-"

" _Why_ , goddamn it?" His eyes pleaded with her to make him understand how she could have allowed two of his people to end up as batting practice. "Just tell me why."

"Because I couldn't stop him." She looked down at their joined hands. "Not this time."

He scoffed. "I don't believe that." Her head snapped up. A denial formed on her lips, but he spoke before she could get it out. "I don't believe it one damn bit."

Raya didn't bother to mask her annoyance with him now.

"Well, I don't care what you believe. It's the truth." She pulled her hand from his and got to her feet. "I couldn't stop him, Rick. I tried. I begged him to show mercy. He refused. I asked him to let me handle it. Again he refused. Rules were broken and he needed to demonstrate what happens when they are."

"You knew and did nothing."

"I knew it was coming and did everything I could to stop it."

"Right."

Her own temper sparked then.

"Until you pulled your boneheaded stunt at that satellite depot, I had Negan under control."

"Bullshit."

"It had been months since anybody was fed to Lucille."

"Which..."

"Wouldn't have happened this time had _you_ not royally pissed him off by killing over two dozen of his men asleep in their beds."

"I was trying to help free the people at Hilltop from him and make a deal that would benefit us here in Alexandria."

"No, what you came up with was a premeditated plan for murder with the goal of gaining Hilltop's supply payment for yourself."

"Ray—"

"You and those with you went in with one plan in mind: to kill everybody inside that depot regardless of guilt."

"Raya..."

"You're a murderer, Rick." Bitterness edged her tone. "Just like you accuse him of being."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life is being kind to you!


	10. Ten

Rick had anticipated she'd be upset about the situation with Negan. He told himself he could deal with her temper. What happened to Glenn and Abraham was his fault. He took full responsibility for their deaths. He even owned what happened at that Savior outpost. It was _his_ plan and _he_ was the one who led the charge. He had done many things he wasn't proud of since she left him in that farmhouse.

He'd do them all again if he had too.

He could explain each and every one of his choices to her. Raya was a reasonable woman. She'd understand he hadn't any other options available when he made his decisions. She knew this world demanded split-second calls. That it required them to act in the heat of the moment. How could she not understand? She spent her entire career as a cop — and as Fenix — making decisions that nobody else wanted to make.

She, as well as those she worked with, fought the fights others were too afraid of. She did whatever was necessary to make sure people didn't end up hurt or killed. She struck with the ferocity of a lioness before he could get the first words passed his lips, though.

"The men you want me to avenge were co-conspirators who aided you in the commission of a crime." Acidic honey dripped from her tongue. "They're just as guilty as you. And they'd have received the same punishment as you had I or any member of my family been the one to hand out judgment."

"Raya—"

"No, Rick." She folded her arms across her chest. "You can't talk your way out of this. Not with me. I was a cop, same as you. I upheld the same laws that you once did. Laws," she added with a pointed look, "that I continue to uphold to the best of my ability so that there is some sort of civilization inside this hellhole we live in."

Every word burned another hole in his already bleeding heart. How could he argue with that? Murder was murder. No matter how justified he felt in his actions, the facts all came back with the same conclusion: they murdered those men.

"Raya..." he began but she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"Had Negan let me handle things as I wanted to handle them, you and all those who were with you at that satellite depot would be sitting in the prison that I have and waiting to face judgment from the tribunal I'd have called to settle the matter."

A tribunal that no doubt would have included the very two men who instilled such a strong moral compass inside her: Batman and Gotham City Police Commissioner, Jim Gordon.

"What about what Negan did? Huh?" He demanded. "He _murdered_ Glenn and Abraham right in front of us."

"Yes, he did," she agreed with a nod. "And before you ask, no, I do not agree with what he did. I find this entire matter utterly deplorable. People died and for what? So you could take over as the Hilltop's overlord? Or so he could wave his bat around and act like the King of the Apocalypse?" She sniffed. "Wow. You both really gained a lot here."

Rick felt himself bristle at her icy tone.

"They died because he's a goddamn lunatic."

"No, they died because of your actions at that satellite depot."

"And because he's a goddamn psychopath."

"Who was acting in accordance with tribal law."

"Tribal law?" He stared incredulously at her. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm very serious."

"How the hell do you figure that this was tribal law?"

"By its very definition." She sent him a look that would have melted ice cubes when he scoffed. "Unless you've forgotten that along with your morals?"

"Just remind me what it is," he snapped. "Smart ass."

"Tribal law," she said with a sniff, "is what applies when there's an absence of a governing authority to uphold the norms and laws of society."

"And that means what, exactly?"

"That a tribal authority is called upon to decide a civil or criminal matter. In this case, the tribal authority being Negan and his chosen manner of handling the matter to use Lucille."

"So?"

"So, it means Negan was justified in what he did because he was acting in accordance with tribal law."

"How?" Temper sizzled in every syllable. "Huh? How was he justified in what he did?"

"As the governing authority of the Saviors, it was up to him to seek justice for those you and your people killed in that satellite depot."

Logic had always been this woman's preferred, and admittedly, most powerful weapon. She wielded it with the same amount of grace and finesse that Michonne did her sword. As much as he wanted to deny, to disagree with her, he couldn't. She was right. As hard as it was to hear, to accept, it was the truth. No matter how justified they might feel in what they did, it was murder, plain and simple. _And that made Negan the commanding authority to demand justice for what we did._ Still, a part of him couldn't help but feel betrayed at her siding with the son-of-a-bitch.

"How can you stand there and defend him?" He bit the question out from between clenched teeth. "How can you justify what he did and say it was okay but that what we did was wrong?"

"In the same way that I will stand in front of him and defend _you:_ with facts. And the facts," she added as he sputtered stupidly, "are that neither of you is right in what you did. You both murdered people. And why did you murder those people? For nothing less than pride, ego and your own selfish purposes."

"He's the one left to run around and do whatever the hell he wants."

"If I punish him, I have to punish you. And Rick..." She shook her head. "I don't want to punish you."

"What is it that you want then?"

"I want to save you."

That took the wind out of his sails. Saving him wasn't even on the list of things he figured she'd say. It should have been, though, he realized. Saving people was what this woman did. _Even at the expense of herself_. Rick studied her, a plethora of questions tumbling around inside his head. Who was reminding her to eat? Or badgering her into laying down and getting some sleep? Was there somebody stopping her from wading into a walker-infested building as if she didn't have a damned care in the world?

Rick had a feeling that the answer to those questions was a name he didn't especially want to hear. _It can't be Negan taking care of her. It just can't be. That asshole doesn't give a shit about anybody but himself._ As he thought it, though, something told him he was wrong. There was more between Raya and Negan than she was admitting. How to get the truth out of her? He didn't have a clue. The woman was like Fort Knox. Nobody got inside her mental vault unless she allowed them. _And she's made it clear she doesn't want to discuss whatever her relationship with Negan is_.

Not that he didn't have a damn good clue about what their relationship was. He just couldn't believe it was true. _She can't be involved with that asshole_ , he thought as he ran a hand over his face. The thick bristles of his beard slid against his callused fingers and palm. Rick cringed as the rasping sound filled the silence. It was another reminder of how far he had fallen from the tree. He used to shave religiously. Growing a beard was something he was only allowed to do when he was on vacation. _Now look at me_ , he thought, grimacing. _I'm becoming a shaggy dog_.

"I know I can't begin to understand what you've gone through since I left you in that farmhouse," he heard her say. "I know it had to be bad for it to break that moral fiber you had."

"We've done the worst sorts of things to survive," he said quietly. "They were what we needed to do at the time. I regret what we did but I don't apologize for doing it." He set a hand on Krypto's head. "The choice was either death or survival. I chose survival. I hope you can understand that."

"I do." She gave a slight nod. "Believe me, I do. However, I can't help but feel that some of this is my fault."

"Your fault?" One brow tilted. "How?"

"If I hadn't allowed my fear to overcome me," she explained as she began to pace in front of the bed, "if I had stayed with you and not ran away, I would have stopped you from going to the dark side."

Hearing her blame herself for his having gone off the deep end moralistically pissed him off. He would have jumped from the bed and confronted her about it, but the mammoth dog snoring in his lap and the fact he was naked kept him still. He contented himself by shooting her a heated look and talking in the same cool tones she did.

"Yes, I've done things to survive. To see my family, survive. We have made it this far because we have done those things."

"Yes." She nodded. "And you wouldn't have had to do any of those things had I been there to show you there were ways that didn't involve murdering people asleep in their beds."

"You don't know that."

"I don't?" She sniffed as she turned to pace towards the dresser. "I have no human lives on my hands and lead a group three times the size of yours. My people do not kill the living. We help them." She sent a look over one shoulder. "Even if they don't always deserve it."

"Yes, but..."

"Rick, we both know I would have told you how wrong attacking that depot was, that there was another way to go about acquiring the supplies we needed and that we could have worked out a trade agreement with Hilltop that didn't involve us becoming murderers."

 _Truth_ , Rick decided as he swallowed the huge helping of crow she shoved in his mouth, _tasted foul._

"Morgan tried to say a lot of those things," he admitted, grimacing. "I didn't listen to him."

 _And I should have_ , he added silently. Glenn and Abraham would be alive if he had. Daryl would be home. _And we wouldn't be under the thumb of a ball bat wielding asshole._

"He didn't say those things well enough then." Raya folded her arms across her chest. "Because I wouldn't have tried." She sent him a look full of feminine superiority. "I would have succeeded."

It wasn't arrogance. It was confidence. In herself and in her abilities. After seeing how she handled herself in that fight at the farmhouse, he had no doubt she couldn't do exactly as promised.

"You'd have knocked me on my ass if I refused to listen."

"Well..." Her shoulders lifted into a faint shrug. "If you decided on being your usual stubborn self then, yes, I'd have knocked your ass unconscious." Her lips trembled. "And I'd have tossed it in some deep, dark cellar until you were ready to discuss things reasonably and rationally."

"You mean until I agreed to see things your way."

"Considering how I am always right..."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, you are."

"See?" She teased. "Was that so hard to admit?"

His lips crooked upwards as the tension in his belly eased.

"You like feedin' me humble pie, don't you?"

She harrumphed. "You have earned every bit of that pie."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I have." He patted the bed. "Will you finally tell me why you're here? I know it can't be to break my balls."

"No," she agreed as she again took a seat beside him. "No, I didn't come here just for that. Though I gotta admit..." There was a speckle of humor in her voice, on her face. "It feels good to bust your balls."

"Could you go and break Negan's instead?"

"I do." She smiled as Krypto started to snore. "It's why he likes me."

"Because you bust his balls?"

"That, and because I don't need him to protect me from the monsters in the dark." She reached out and set her hand on his. "I'm what terrorizes those monsters." Her fingers trembled against his. "Well, most of them anyway."

Most of her temper had drained away. Fatigue was breaking through to haunt her face. The large bruise darkening her jaw stood out like a huge black blotch against the pallor of her skin. Rick saw other bruises forming on the exposed skin of her right shoulder. Anger simmered in his belly at seeing her flesh marred by such ugliness. It quickly turned to guilt as a voice inside him told he was to blame for her injuries. He went to apologize but blurted out the question that had plagued him since he woke up to find her and her kids gone, instead.

"Why did you leave me in that farmhouse?"

"Rick..."

"Just tell me why."

She sighed, looked down, muttered, "Because."

"Because, why?"

"Because..." A pensive frown darkened her brow. "Because I was afraid that if someone like Bane could end up discovering my location that there were others, far, far worse than him, who also could find me."

"So? We woulda handled them just like we handled them assholes Luthor sent."

"Luthor's men," she said darkly. "Men like Slade or even Negan? As terrible as they are, as violent, they are nothing compared to who I feared finding us."

Anxiety and a healthy dose of dread curdled in his belly at her tone. Something told him he didn't want to know who she thought was worse than Negan. Nobody was worse than Negan in his opinion. Not even Gareth and his group of cannibals measured up to Negan. However, he couldn't contain the small kernel of curiosity tumbling around inside him.

"Who?"

The things that burst into life on her face chilled Rick to the core of his being. It went beyond anger and hatred. And when she spoke, the tone she used was the one she used when she shifted to her other side.

"The Joker."

Rick frowned. "The Joker? But isn't he..."

"A comic book character?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, still getting accustomed to the idea that superheroes are real."

Her face softened. "Superheroes have always existed." Her fingers curled around his. "Men like you, my uncle, those who served in our armed forces, firefighters... you were the real superheroes. You put your lives on the line every time you left your houses."

"I didn't have to worry about bad guys with names like the Joker."

"No, you just had to worry about everyday assholes with guns."

He sent a wry look at the small scar that remained from the asshole who shot him and put him in a coma.

"Don't have to remind me about that."

"The wound healed nicely from the looks of it."

"Only because of you and that goop you smeared on it."

"That goop kept you from developing an infection."

"No," he said. "That was because of you and your badgering."

Raya harrumphed. "I did not badger you."

His lips kicked up at the corners.

"You bullied and badger me about it the entire time we were together."

She rolled her eyes. "Only because someone had too."

"And that someone just had to be you."

"Again," she teased. "Since I am always right..."

"Of course, you are."

"See?" Her dimples winked. "Getting easier the more that you say it."

Rick snorted a laugh. "You're just enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Always a tingle when men agree with me."

 _Her guard is down_ , he realized. _Now is a good time to try to get some answers from her_. It was a tactic he learned while they traveled together. He just had to phrase his questions innocuously enough to not push those barriers back up.

"How does Negan put up with you?"

She made a face. "He usually pats me on my ass and then goes does whatever he wants just to prove he was right and I was wrong." She sent him a long look from beneath lowered lashes. "Dirty move, Sheriff."

"What?"

"Slipping a question in there about Negan." She wagged a finger at him. "Tsk Tsk."

"You won't answer me otherwise."

Her face sobered.

"Maybe because you're not ready to hear the answers I'd give."

"Maybe I already know."

"Then why ask?" She tried to slide her fingers from his, but he tightened his hold. "Let me go."

"Just tell me why."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"It's complicated..."

"Of all the men out there that you could choose, why him?" The look he gave her was imploring. "Just answer me that. Why him for chrissakes."

She was silent as she deliberated the best way to answer his question. Rick waited, knowing she'd either answer him or tell him to mind his business. Finally, she lifted eyes haunted by thousands of memories to his.

"Rick, I want you to think of the most unforgivable thing that this world could ask us to do as parents."

Fear grabbed Rick by the throat as those words washed over him. There was only one thing that this world could demand of them as parents that'd be unforgivable. _Oh God... not them_ , he thought as his breath congealed in his lungs. _Please, not them_...

"Rose?" He could barely speak around the lump in his throat. "Christopher?"

"They're fine," she assured him. "They're with their uncles."

Hearing that brought Rick only moderate relief.

"Then who?"

"A little girl named Yasmine." Grief and a plethora of other things he couldn't define darkened the depths of her eyes. "A darling little angel with big green eyes, bouncing curls, and a smile that would break your heart."

"I don't understand..." he said slowly. "What does this little girl have to do with why you picked a monster like him?"

"Because it has everything to do with why I picked him." She slid her hand from his and stood. "The man you call a monster is the one who put her down."

Rick was barely able to get out a, "What?" the shock was so thick in his throat. "Why?"

"A virus swept through the Sanctuary, infecting over a dozen people." Her hands fidgeted at her sides. The only outward sign of her anxious state. "Yasmine and her mother, Tami were two of those who got sick."

"And they turned," he guessed. "Right?"

"Yes." She started to pace beside the bed in small, tight circles. "And he was the one who put her down. Why?" She turned to look at him. "So, I wouldn't have to do it."

Rick found himself stunned into silence. As much as he hated Negan, as much as he'd like to take that bat of his and turn it on him, he couldn't help but empathize with the man for what he'd done. The mere thought of losing Carl or Judith was unbearable. _I can't imagine being placed in a situation where I must put them down._

He didn't think he could do it. Not without losing what little sanity he had left _. Is that what made him the way he is?_ He found himself wondering. _Seeing so many children dying from something that we cannot stop?_ He was about to ask her when she again spoke.

"I don't expect you to understand my feelings for him. No more than I expect you to accept that I choose to be with him. Sometimes, I don't understand my feelings for him. But," she said with a sigh, "it is what it is and I'm not sorry."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	11. Eleven

"You shouldn't have to apologize." The admission was hard for him to make even after chewing over her words silently for a few minutes. "Not for having feelings for someone."

"That someone is a man who you despise," she pointed out, then sighed. "With just reason."

"That doesn't mean you gotta apologize for having feelings." _Even if they're for that son of a bitch_ , he thought as he ran a hand through his hair. "The fact we're able to feel anything in this crazy fucked up world we're living in is a blessing."

It was much more than a blessing, he realized as Krypto whined and pawed at him for attention. Feeling let them know they were still alive once the dust settled. Feeling said they were okay, that they survived whatever situation. Feeling also let them know they weren't so far gone that they couldn't come back. _We can still come back from this_ , he thought as he obliged the big dog's request and ran a hand over his glossy coat. _With her help, we can crawl out of the rabbit hole we've been down all these many months_.

Raya would help them regain their footing, to find their way, and make themselves whole again. _We'll survive this_. For Glenn, Abraham, for all the friends and loved ones they lost along the way, they'd go on. They'd build a new world from the ruins of the old one. _One that won't be overrun by walkers or assholes with baseball bats_. Raya's extensive training by Batman and her decades of experience from living in the city of Gotham would benefit them in the long run. _She knows this world,_ he thought as Krypto heaved a contented sigh and stretched out across his legs once more. _It's the one she's been fighting since she was a kid._

"It's a blessing when we can feel something that isn't anger, sadness or hate." Raya turned to stare out the bedroom window. "Lord knows we feel those emotions enough thanks to this cruel world we're living in."

It was a sad truth. This world delivered more heartache and pain than it did anything else. He knew that for himself.

"They aren't the only emotions we should feel, though." He stopped rubbing Krypto's silky ear when she snorted. "Just because this world has gone to shit doesn't mean we gotta give up on love and happiness. It's possible for us to have both."

He had to believe that it was possible for them to have both. _I won't lose Michonne like I did Lori._ Michonne was nothing like Lori, though. _No more than Raya was like Lori._ Michonne was more like Raya than Lori. She survived this world by her own strengths and merit. She didn't wait around for anyone to save her. _She saves herself and everyone around her_.

"I do have love in my life." Raya glanced at him from over one shoulder. "I have the love of my children, my family, and my friends. And I love them."

"What about happiness?"

Her shoulders lifted in the faint semblance of a shrug.

"I am happy when they're happy."

"You need your own happiness."

 _Even if that happiness comes with that asshole?_ An inner voice gut twitched as he deliberated over the answer. As much as it hurt him to think of her with a man like Negan, Raya deserved some happiness for herself. _And if it is with Negan then I have to accept it._

He just didn't have to like it.

"Superheroes don't get happy ever afters, Rick."

"They don't?" One brow quirked as she shook her head. "Why not?"

"Because there is always an enemy out there who will use our loved ones against us." Bitterness edged her tone as she turned back to the window. "God knows it has happened enough in my family."

"That doesn't mean you aren't allowed to have love and happiness." A grumble came from the dog stretched across his lap before a paw came up to nudge his hand. Amusement trickled through Rick at Krypto's blatant demand for attention. He conceded, more because he found comfort in the feel of that silky fur against his palm than it was indulging the dog's command. "Your life doesn't end simply because you put on a mask."

"My life is one of duty and obligation," she said quietly. "My wants and needs don't matter."

"Bullshit."

She shook her head. "It's not bullshit."

"Yeah, it is." A chuff came from Krypto. "See, even Krypto agrees that it's a buncha horse shit."

"He doesn't get a vote." A sharp _woof_ came from Krypto, who further expressed his displeasure by smacking a paw on the bed. Raya merely harrumphed. "I don't care what you have to say, you dopey mutt. I know what my orders are."

"You were ordered to stop living your life?" Rick scoffed and shook his head. "I don't believe that. Not after everything you've told me about your mentor."

She'd told him precious little about her mentor, really. Batman was a topic she tended to avoid unless it was imparting some lesson or bit of wisdom he imparted to her. However, she had told him a lot about the men who raised her. _Neither of them would allow her to pursue a career that forced her to give up her own life._

"Rick, there are people counting on me, not only for the safety and protection I provide but for the support and care I give as well."

"So? That means you cannot have a life?"

"It means that my primary focus is on building a better world." Her eyes met his in the glass. "For you and your children. For my children. For all children."

"Building a better world doesn't mean you have to stop having a life of your own. Surely other superheroes have managed to have lives outside of their masks?"

"Stop it." The tone of command, bred into her bones, snapped in her voice. "Rick, my orders are clear. I'm to build a safe-zone for survivors and teach them how to defend themselves and their loved ones from the monsters that are around every corner."

"Then why are you with Negan?" A yip accompanied his question. As if Krypto was asking the same thing. "If your wants and needs don't matter, why are you with him?"

"Selfishness mostly."

"Maybe to some degree it's selfishness," he agreed with a slight nod. "But it's not all of it."

 _Since you don't have a selfish bone in your body,_ he added silently.

"No, it's not all of it." She folded her arms around herself and resumed pacing beside the bed. Weighing what she was going to tell him, most likely, he realized as he watched her. She darted a look at him. "The truth?"

"Please?"

"He needs me."

Rick snorted at that. "Bull-"

"He needs me," she insisted, her tone firm. "Not Fenix, not Doctor Kean, just me."

"Negan doesn't need anybody but Negan."

"You've seen his bad side, Rick," she said. "It's ugly. Even I don't like that side. However, I have also seen his good side. I have seen behind the mask he wears. I know there's more to him than what he shows. I wouldn't be with him if there wasn't good inside of him."

"Right."

"There's a good man inside him, Rick. Same as there is inside of you. You both are just broken and lost because of what this crazy world has done to you."

Rick struggled to hold onto his temper. It was hard, though to sit there and listen to her defend a man who brutally murdered two good men. _I asked for this, though. I asked her to be honest with me about why she's with him_. He couldn't very well demand her honesty and then get pissed off at what he heard.

"I'm more than Fenix or Doctor Kean or even a mom when I'm with him." He heard her say. "I'm just me. Well, I'm mostly me," she amended with a grimace. "He doesn't know I'm Fenix or that my name is actually Raya."

"What does he call you then if he doesn't call you Raya?"

"He calls me Fin."

" _Fin_?"

"Yes, Fin." He laughed, he couldn't help it. She looked at him, one brow lifted questioningly. "What's so funny?"

"I just don't see you as a Fin."

"I like being Fin," she admitted with a small smile. "She gets to have a small slice of normal inside this crazy world. She's allowed to feel something for someone who isn't either a family member or friend without it being complicated."

Raya didn't do complicated. She admitted as much while they were traveling together. A good majority of her reason for that was because of the man she was trying to avoid: Slade Wilson. He never questioned her about her relationship with the man, figured it was none of his damn business, and that if she wanted him to know, she'd tell him. Fragments of a conversation they had while driving floated back to Rick as he sat there and idly stroked a hand over Krypto's glossy coat.

 _"_ _Slade-"_

 _"… didn't want to be a full-time father?"_

 _She shook her head. "It was more he wanted us to be a family when it best suited him to be one." Her soft sigh caused his belly to clench. "You know for yourself that is not how a family works."_

 _"No," he agreed, gaze straying to the photo he stuck in the Bronco's visor. A thousand regrets swam through him as he stared at the faces of his wife and son. "It's not how a family works. You're right."_

 _"Slade chose not to be there for his daughter, Rick," she said gently. "He put himself before her. You, however, are doing everything in your power to find your son so that you can be there to protect him from this bullshit we're dealing with."_

 _"_ _Yeah..."_

 _"You will find Carl. I know that you will. And once you do, you will do everything in your power to keep him safe." She squeezed his shoulder. "That alone makes you a much better father than Slade Wilson ever is gonna be."_

 _Rick weighed her words silently._

 _"I'm glad you kicked the son of a bitch's ass to the curb." He sent a look at her from the corner of his eye. "You deserve better than that asshole."_

Was better Negan, though? Rick didn't think so. Not after everything the asshole said and did in that clearing. In his mind, Raya was too good for the rotten, no good, ball-bat wielding lunatic. She was too good for most anybody really. _Would things have been different if she hadn't left me in that farmhouse? If I found her before she got too far away?_ He wondered about that as Krypto heaved a contented sigh.

Once, he'd have answered those questions with a firm and decisive _no._ If he had gone after Raya, then he wouldn't have found Carl. _And I wouldn't have Judith_. However, a part of Rick did wonder if things would have been different. _If_ _Glenn never helped me escape that tank then he would he never have taken me to where Lori and Carl were staying in that quarry camp_. _If I never ended up in that camp, then I would never have taken over as leader_. _If I never took over as leader than many of those we lost wouldn't be dead._

Another part of him disagreed and reminded him that people had gotten where they were because of him. He shook off his thoughts and focused on the woman pacing like a caged animal. Whatever he was about to say sputtered to a halt when Krypto sat up, chuffing softly.

"What is it, boy?" Raya turned towards the door. "Do you hear something out in the hall?"

"Judith is probably waking up. My daughter," he explained when she sent him a questioning look. "I should go and get her. She will want changing and her breakfast."

Her face softened. "You have a daughter?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Oh, why don't I go and tend to her while you get dressed?"

"You sure?"

"Positive." She started to leave but paused to flick him a wicked glance. "We'll preserve your modesty — and my illusions that way."

It made him laugh, as she intended. "Not the first time I've been caught in bed without a stitch of clothing on."

"Oh? People make a habit of catching you in bed naked?"

A _chuff_ came from Krypto. "Hush you," he told him before saying to her, "Don't need you laughing at me."

Krypto yipped then. "I think he wants to know who managed to sneak in on you while you were sleeping."

"It was a fella from the Hilltop community." He smiled at Krypto's _woof_. Figured it was dog for _dumb ass_. "Was a helluva surprise let me tell you."

"That angsty little Jedi forgot to tell me about that," Raya grumbled as Krypto jumped down to join her at the door. "Guess I'm gonna have to go up to the Hilltop after I leave here and have a talk with him about it."

"Why?"

"'Cause Paul always leaves the most interesting details out of his reports."

"Wait." Surprise streaked through Rick. "You know Jesus?"

"Yes, I know that angsty little Jedi," she confirmed with a nod. "He's partially why you're in this mess with Negan."

"What?" Rick could barely get the word out around his swollen tongue. He fervently wished for a sip of water to moisten his dry mouth, but the cup on the nightstand had somehow ended up on the floor. He moistened his mouth with what little spit he could dredge up to ask, "Why?"

Raya seemed to sense his predicament because she crossed to the bathroom and filled a cup left on the sink with water from the faucet.

"It was as much to free Hilltop as it was because Paul wanted to get me away from Negan. Which he'd been trying to get me to do for months," she said as she carried the cup to him. "Here."

"Clearly, you refused," he kidded as he gratefully took the cup and drank from it. "Otherwise," he said once he finished, "we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Obviously." A faint smile curved her lips. "You wouldn't be in the predicament you're in if I had left Negan."

"You don't know that." He'd love to think it was true but knew it wasn't. Not after everything he learned about Negan. "Leaving him wouldn't have stopped him from coming after us."

"Rick, do you honestly think I'd leave Negan in power if I chose to leave him?" Krypto issued a snort. Raya hushed him with a look. "Negan is unpredictable now. Hurting him like that?" She shook her head. "Nobody would be safe from his wrath."

 _Or from that bat of his_. Negan was an enraged bull over what they did at that satellite depot. If Raya left him? He'd be a wounded dragon.

"We gained Negan's attention after Daryl killed his men with an RPG." He grimaced as a plethora of bad memories rose up to haunt him. Carl losing his eye, walkers loose inside Alexandria's walls, having to chop Jessie's hand off so she'd release Carl. It all came back to him. One stunningly bad memory after another. Rick forced them down and focused on the here and now. There'd be time to grieve later. "We were already on his shit list before we attacked that depot."

"Yes, you were." She made a face. "I can't deny that it set him off when Daryl killed Bud and the others. However, I still had him reasonably under control. I even had him convinced to let me approach your people and try to resolve the situation without there being any more violence on either end."

"Then we attacked his outpost and killed all those men."

"Then you attacked his outpost and killed all those men," she confirmed with a nod. "It was like the bombing of Pearl Harbor— an announcement of war. So, he responded in kind."

Only instead of dropping nuclear bombs on them, he brought that bat down on the skulls of Glenn and Abraham.

"We attacked that depot because we figured that Negan was planning to come after us for those men." Rick ran a hand over his face and sighed. "It was a preemptive strike. Get him before he could get us."

"He was planning to attack you," she said honestly. "I stopped him."

"We didn't know that."

"Paul did."

Rick stared at her incredulously. "He _knew_ you had stopped Negan from attacking us?"

"He did, yes."

"When?" He demanded. "When did he know?"

"When I tasked him with approaching your community and finding out what he could about you and your people."

"You told him..." Rick shook his head. "I don't understand."

He was starting to think he wasn't supposed to understand.

"Know your enemy, Rick. Know their strengths, their weaknesses, what makes them tick. That's how you defeat them in a fight."

"Wait..." He stared at her as a few things he hadn't realized before fell into place. "Did you have Paul approach Daryl and I?"

"Well, I didn't _know_ it was you when I gave him that order," she admitted with a grimace. "But yes."

"You had him bring us to Hilltop?"

"I had him check you out," she corrected. "He decided to bring you to Hilltop and forge an agreement between your communities all on his own."

"Which brings us back to Paul wanting you to leave Negan and you refusing."

"Yes."

"Why didn't he just contact one of your partners? Or Kai even?"

It was a calculated move. A way of discovering if she operated alone or had members of her friends and family here helping her. Rick suspected she did from everything she said.

"He did," she said. "He called on Red Robin a few weeks before the incident with Bud to express his concerns about my relationship with Negan."

"And?"

"And he suggested to him that he should force me to leave Negan but Red refused to do it."

"Because it's your choice to stay or go."

 _As much as we all might wish otherwise._

"Yes." She tucked a loose curl behind her ear as she took the cup from him and returned it to the bathroom. "Which is exactly what Red told him when they talked."

"How did bringing us to Hilltop help him with getting you away from Negan?"

Not that Rick wasn't able to figure it out for himself. Them showing up at Hilltop on the day Hilltop residents returned from a failed drop-off with a deadly message for Gregory, the leader of the community was like the second coming of Christ. It gave them the opening to make a deal that would see Hilltop freed from Savior control. All it required was Rick and them wiping the group out. Something Raya confirmed with her next statement.

"He couldn't make the deal with you. Only Gregory could do that. And to do that..."

"Meant we needed to go to Hilltop and meet with him."

"Yes."

"So, what now?" He asked her. "What's the next move? 'Cause I'm up against it. I have a week to gather enough supplies to satisfy the son of a bitch or risk losing more of my people."

A soft cry sounded from the end of the hall, signaling that Judith was awake and wanted tending too. Krypto chuffed and exited the room.

"Later," Raya told him as she turned to follow. "We can talk about what to do next later."

"Fine," he grumbled as he tossed back the covers and reached for his clothes. "And then maybe we will head to Hilltop to have a talk with Jesus."

The _angsty little Jedi_ as she called Paul had some serious explaining to do.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life is treating you well!


	12. Twelve

"So," Dick said once he and Bruce were alone in the cave. "I guess we know it's _not_ Slade Wilson that forced them to go with radio silence. It's the Joker."

"No," Bruce denied quietly. "It wasn't the Joker who compelled them to cut communications with us."

"It wasn't?"

"No."

Dick frowned at him over the rim of the cup he held. "Then you think it _is_ Slade Wilson that caused the need for them to cut off communications with us?"

Bruce typed some information into the computer before answering.

"I know Wilson is the reason for why they've opted for radio silence."

"You know it's Wilson?" Amusement coated Dick's tone. "And are you going to share how you know he's the reason for their silence or am I supposed to sit here quietly in suspense?"

Bruce didn't laugh but he did allow the smallest smile to grace his lips at Dick's gentle teasing.

"You've never sat there quietly." He flicked a look at him. "Even when I ordered you too."

"Hey, I'm chatty." Dick sent him an easy smile. "It's part of my charm."

It was one of the things that identified them when they both wore the cowl. _Even Gordon jokes about knowing which version of Batman has shown up by the number of witty remarks they make as soon as they arrive._

"You need less charm."

"Then I'd be you."

Bruce turned back to the computer. "You still have a long way to go before you'd be me."

"You do have that whole brooding thing down to an art."

"I tend to recall that you have your own gargoyle that you go when you're brooding."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Does Raya have to tell you _everything_?"

"No." A beep sounded and distracted him for a moment. "No more than she tells _you_ everything."

"She's gotten more like you since you tasked her with building a safe community for survivors and teaching them how to survive." Dick reached for his coffee. "I know I shouldn't be surprised that she cut off communications with us but I am."

"I'm surprised you haven't figured out why she chose to cut off communications with us."

"I didn't think to investigate the reason deeper," Dick admitted with a slight grimace. "I just assumed it was they were intentionally leaving us out of whatever was going on because they don't want us going down there and interfering."

 _You thought it was because they don't need you_ , Bruce corrected silently. He didn't say that, though. The way he saw it, Alfred handled the situation and far better than he would have, anyway.

"That's not why they have chosen radio silence."

"Then why did they?" Dick stared down into his mug. "That's what I want to know. Why order radio silence?" He lifted the mug but didn't take a drink from it. "And why have Tim tell us it was what they decided to do? Why wasn't she the one to tell us?"

"She's still inside the group working with Wilson."

Dick choked on a sip of coffee. "She's _what_?"

"She is inside the group working with Wilson to find her and Rose."

"She's gone undercover?"

"Yes." Bruce looked at him from the corner of his eye. "She is going by the name of Fin."

A frown puckered Dick's brow. "I thought Roy Harper was their inside man?"

"He is," Bruce confirmed. "Harper is with her. And they have a man in another community that they use to pass messages to Tim and Damian."

"Why is Raya on the inside?" One brow arched. "What prompted her decision?"

"There were women being brutally raped and murdered by one of the Saviors," Bruce explained as he scanned the information that scrolled across the screen. "Raya went undercover as Fin to find the man and stop him."

"And did she?"

"Yes."

"Then why is she still there?"

"It is a way to keep a close eye on Slade Wilson and his whereabouts."

"That makes sense," Dick allowed. "But she's still taking a risk being in the open."

"Raya knows what she's doing. She's gone undercover before."

"Yes, but times were different then. We were just trying to stop criminals. Not keep one from taking her daughter away from her while fighting hordes of infected people and teaching people how to survive."

"That won't happen. We won't let it." Bruce turned to check on the progress the computer made on comparing the samples. Fifty percent complete. They'd have their answers then and be able to figure out what to do next. "Tim believes she's become involved with the leader of the group."

"Raya?" Dick scoffed. "Please."

Bruce looked at him.

"There is some merit to his suspicions, Dick."

"You realize you're talking about the woman who hasn't dated anyone since Christopher was born, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you know…"

"She's only human."

Dick rolled his eyes. "I know she's only human. And believe me," he said. "I'd be thrilled if she found someone and settled down."

"But?" He cast an amused look at Dick. "I sense a but here."

"But it concerns me."

Dick had read the reports Tim had sent back to them. He knew about the instances of violence instituted against other communities. The punishments handed out to those accused of breaking the rules that Negan laid out. They filled him with the same reservations as Dick. However, Bruce also trusted his imp. _She saw the good in Harley Quinn. In Bane. And both have become allies in this war we're fighting._

"You have to trust her," Bruce said. "And trust that if she's with this man that it's because she sees the good in him."

"How does her being involved with Negan explain why they chose radio silence?"

"They didn't have any other choice."

"What do you mean they didn't have any other choice?"

"Wilson hacked their communication systems a few days ago." Bruce keyed a few commands into the computer. "He was using it to track their location."

"And monitoring their communications." Dick ran a hand over the back of his head. "Right?

"Yes." Bruce sat back in his chair. "He could have found out she is inside the Saviors and used the information to set a trap for her. So, she ordered radio silence."

"Do you think Wilson is the one who scrambled the signal?"

"No." Bruce keyed a few commands into the computer. "The coding is too sophisticated for someone like Wilson." Not that Slade Wilson was incapable of scrambling a communication signal, Bruce realized. The man was an expertly trained agent. His file in A.R.G.U.S's databank only listed a fraction of the unique skills Wilson possessed. He could easily have scrambled the signal. However, the coding was not simply too advanced for someone like Wilson. It was that it was written in such a way that it sent a message. He pointed to the screen. "Look at the coding. What do you see?"

"A lot of scrambled letters and numbers."

"There's a message embedded in the scrambled letters and numbers."

"A message?" Dick glanced at the screen and then him. "What kind of message?"

"It's a question." Bruce's lips curled at the end. "One you should know without having to think about it."

It was the first question he asked all his protégés on their first day of training. _Why do we fall_? _So, we will learn how to rise._

"You're right," Dick said as realization dawned. "That's too sophisticated a message for a man like Slade Wilson. But it's exactly the sort of message that Tim would send to let us know everything is fine." He flashed him a grin. "And you were angry he left Gotham after your expressly forbidding him from doing so."

"I was not angry with Tim for having left Gotham after I specifically _asked_ him not too."

"You brooded about it for a week."

"I did _not_ brood."

"Yes, you did."

"If I brooded, it was with good reason." Bruce reached for his mug and took a swallow of his now tepid coffee. "He left without first discussing his decision to go with me."

 _He managed to evade me for a week_ , he mused as he set the cup back down. _Something none of you have ever been able to successfully do_. Not even Jason managed to evade him for longer than seventy-two hours. Despite the annoyance he had felt over Tim's decision to ignore his orders, he also couldn't help the slight tingle of pride that filled him at seeing how far he had come in his training. _The world will be in safe hands when I am gone._

"You had already told him he couldn't go."

"Had he explained his reasoning for wanting to go, I would have understood." A snort greeted that statement. He glanced over at Dick, a frown creasing his brow. "What?"

"You'd have still said no."

"Perhaps." Bruce turned back to the computer. "I did have my reasons for wanting him to stay in Gotham. It wasn't something I requested simply to punish him."

 _Or to keep him away from Raya and the kids_.

"I know you had your reasons for keeping him here in Gotham," Dick said with a nod. "But Slade managed to find her anyway. So, did the men that Luthor sent after Kai. And Bane," he added before Bruce could form a reply. "Don't forget he found her. And that was before Tim even got out of Gotham."

"I know."

It shocked him when he learned Bane not only discovered the place she was staying at in Georgia but that he helped her escape from the men Luthor hired to bring her and Kai to him. He shouldn't be that surprised, though. _They've had a connection ever since the night the Joker hired him to kill me._ Courage and loyalty were two qualities that a mercenary like Bane admired. _And both are things that Raya possesses an abundance of._

"If she's right - and given how rarely she's ever wrong when it comes to the Joker - then I'm glad she has Tim with her. And Damian. They'll help her deal with whatever it is he's got planned."

Bruce didn't offer a reply. There wasn't one he could offer that wouldn't anger his oldest son. He couldn't help that he'd rather it was him who was there and making sure the Joker couldn't hurt anyone. It was the Joker. The rules changed when it came to him. Was he being unreasonable? Yes. Tim and Damian were exceptionally gifted, well-seasoned and skilled crime fighters. They could handle themselves in a fight. However, there was still a part of him that wanted to don the cape and cowl and go after the Joker.

 _What is it Jim says about Dad Mode? That there is no off and on switch?_ He was right. There wasn't one. Not that he had found, anyway. People assumed he didn't care about his charges. That he adopted them simply to soften his reputation as a playboy billionaire. They believed he didn't worry about their safety or constantly check to make sure they were okay. They figured he dumped them in fancy private schools and went about his business.

They were wrong.

He worried for his children and grandchildren. Especially with this virus plaguing the world. Exceptionally gifted his brood was. He personally gave them the tools they needed to survive whatever the world tossed at them. He never anticipated a world like this. _Nobody could predict something like this._ The line between _Bruce Wayne_ and _Batman_ blurred when the first infected started to rise. He couldn't compartmentalize the two sides of him. Not when the threats were coming from all sides. Not when the threat was something that neither side of him could eliminate.

"As if the infected roaming around, the bands of survivors fighting for territory and supplies, Wilson trying to get Rose, and the remaining rogues are not enough for us to have to deal with." Dick ran a hand over his face and released a sigh. "Now we have the Joker to worry about. And you know that whatever he has planned will be an over the top and grand affair."

"It can't be the Joker." Bruce steepled his fingers in front of him as he stared pensively at the screen of the Batcomputer. "Jim and I burned his body. Jim disposed of his ashes personally."

"How often has he managed to trick us into thinking he's dead only for him to pop up out of nowhere, better than ever, and with some new sick game he wants to play?"

Bruce grunted a noncommittal reply. He didn't need Dick to remind him of all the other times where they believed the Joker dead and it turned out he wasn't. He was fully aware of those times. They tended to haunt his thoughts day and night. However, there was just no conceivable way the Joker could have escaped this just wasn't. The Joker had been dead. He carried his lifeless body into that crematorium himself. He placed it in that incinerator personally. He and Jim watched as those flames consumed that gaunt body.

 _"He's just as dangerous dead as he was when he was alive." Gordon's voice was subdued. "Hard as that is to imagine."_

 _"He's not a danger anymore," he rasped. "Tonight? Tonight, his criminal reign came to an end. It's over, Jim. He's finished."_

 _"Is it?" Jim slid his hands deep into his pockets while he stood watching as flames brighter than the midday sun slowly consumed the skeletal body once belonging to the man known throughout Gotham as the Clown Prince of Crime. "Or has the son of a bitch somehow found another way to escape the hands of Death?"_

 _"No." He shifted slightly as the flames burned even brighter for a moment. "He's not coming back. Not this time."_

He wasn't coming back. Not this time. That's what he told Jim. _And I was wrong_ , he realized, gut twisting. Horribly, horribly wrong. Dick seemed to guess his thoughts because he turned towards him before saying, "You know he is back, Bruce. Somehow, someway, the Joker faked his death. He's in Virginia."

"I know he did." Bruce glanced at him. "Now, we find him and stop him."

"Have to figure out if he's using his _Joker Venom_ to create a new bunch of infected before we can formulate a way of stopping him."

"The computer should finish analyzing the samples Selina gave us in a few minutes." Not that he needed to know the results. It was the Joker. He already knew what the results would show. "We'll know for sure then."

They fell into a sort of companionable silence as they waited. It was a return to the days when Dick was Robin and would be helping him with figuring out a case. The only difference was now Dick wore the cape and cowl. _I should still be wearing the cape and cowl_ , he thought, jaw clenching. _Dick should be enjoying being a husband and father._

"I know what you're thinking." Dick shifted in his chair and reached for the coffee carafe. "You want to put on the cape and cowl and go after the Joker, yourself." He poured coffee into his cup. "You can't, Bruce. Not with your knee in the condition it's in."

Bruce bristled at Dick's chiding tone.

"I am quite aware of my knee's condition."

He planned to speak with Lucius about finding something that would help him strengthen the knee so he could put the cape and cowl back on should it become necessary for him to do so.

"You're aware of it and planning on doing something about it." Dick slanted a look at him. "I know you. I know how you think."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't do something about my knee?"

"Of course not," he replied. "If there's a way to make your knee stronger, I'm all for it. However, don't do it simply because you want to put on the cape and cowl and go traipsing off to tangle with the Joker."

Dick didn't even flinch when he sent him a warning look. _Either I'm getting too old or he's grown immune to my looks_. Bruce had a feeling it was a bit of both. Neither pleased him.

"I wasn't aware that what I was doing was _tangling_ with the Joker," he grumbled. "I believe that I have done everything I could to stop the Joker from hurting people."

"What I know is that you want to go out and stop him."

"Don't you?"

"Of course, I do. You know I will do whatever it takes to stop the Joker." Dick leaned forward in his chair. "I'm not you, though. I'm not looking to become what I once was."

" _Was_?" One brow lifted. "What _was_ I?"

"Someone whose anger at having the people he loved most taken from him compelled him to put on a suit and defend and protect all life, even at the expense of his own."

 _You've never understood that my life never mattered_. He didn't tell Dick that. It would only lead to a long and pointless argument.

"If the Joker has returned and is creating an army of infected, then this world needs me."

"Yes, it needs Batman," Dick agreed with a slight nod. "And it has one. _Me_."

"Dick..."

"The _world_ needs Bruce Wayne more than it needs a second Batman," Dick interjected in a tone like tempered steel. "It needs your resources, your knowledge, your experience. It doesn't need your body or your life."

"The world has all those things. What it needs is all of us working together to stop the Joker from whatever it is he's got planned."

"Let me worry about the Joker. You continue working on finding a cure for this virus."

"I tried finding a cure. I failed. As has everyone else who has tried to manufacture a cure or vaccine."

 _Just ask Luthor_ , he thought bitterly. Luthor had his team of scientists working around the clock in his state of the art laboratory on a cure or vaccine for the last three years. The only thing Luthor's scientists came up with was a crackpot theory about fusing human DNA with Kryptonian in hopes it would alter the virus and stop it from becoming activated at the time of death.

To test their theory, though, required turning Kai into a lab rat. He wasn't willing to do that. Even if it meant the possibility of stopping more people from turning into the walking dead.

"You can fail as Bruce Wayne. As Batman, you can't afford to."

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Bruce demanded in a hard tone. "That if I go back out there I'll fail to stop the Joker?"

"No." Dick shook his head. "I'm afraid you will finally go too far and kill him."

 _I can't listen to this_ , Bruce thought as he slowly pushed to his feet. _I know what I must do._ Gordon was depending on him. The world needed him. He had to do this. Why? Because it _was_ the Joker. _I must get back out there. I must stop him before he manages to hurt more innocent people than he already has._

He crossed the Batcave, leaning heavily on his cane, and unlocked a glass closet the size of a sarcophagus. Inside, hidden away for the last year, was a suit of matte-black body armor made of reinforced Kevlar bi-weave fabric and fire-retardant Nomex. The silhouette of a winged nocturnal predator was emblazoned upon the broad chest piece.

Adjacent shelves held steel-tipped black boots, gauntlets with scalloped metal fins, a hanging cloak, his Utility Belt, and — last but certainly not least — his cowl. Its mere shadow once struck terror into the hearts of the criminal element still infecting this world.

He regarded the cowl now, the black pointy ears, the empty eyeholes, the gaping area where his chin and mouth were visible once he slid the mask into place. The focus of his study was not so much the mask itself but what it represented: _secrets_. Inside this one piece of Batman's arsenal was a million secrets.

 _Batman's_ secrets.

 _Bruce Wayne's_ secrets.

The cowl was both the cloak and the dagger, and both had cut him deeply through his lengthy career. If he regretted anything, it was that several of the choices that he made while wearing that fearsome mask had deeply affected the lives of his family and closest friends. He picked up the cowl as Dick came up behind him.

"It's not worth it, Bruce." Their eyes met in the reflection cast by the glass. " _He's_ not worth it."

"You're right on that, Dick." He set the mask back on the shelf and turned to face him. " _He's_ not worth it."

 _You are,_ he said silently as he turned to limp back to the beeping computer. _You're who I want to protect._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope life has been good to you!


	13. Thirteen

"Why are you here at the Foundry?" The man's low, dark tone sent a chill down Dom's spine. It took every ounce of his control to continue standing in front of the makeshift desk without twitching. "I told you to remain at the Sanctuary until either Raya Kean or someone close to her was found."

"I was ordered to come here."

Slade Wilson didn't look up from the map spread out across his desk. The wood beneath the thick paper was nearly black with age, with deep gouges scored into its smooth surface by years of abuse. Yet it gleamed beneath the glow of the recessed lighting. It was a testament to the order and discipline in which Wilson ran his organization. Everything around Dom sparkled and shined. If not for the fact that he had fought his way through a horde of infected on his way here, he wouldn't have believed himself in the middle of an apocalypse.

"Who ordered you to come here?" Wilson lifted his head enough that the top of the black patch he wore over one eye became visible. "And why?"

"Liam told me to come here and bring the news we have to you."

"I see." A faint smirk appeared but was gone in the blink of an eye. "What news is it that you bring me? And for your sake?" His voice dropped an octave. "I hope the information is worth disobeying my carefully given instructions."

Dom felt his gut clench as the weight of those words washed over him. Slade Wilson was far different than Negan. He possessed the ability to either command the respect and loyalty of those who served him or instill fear in those who foolishly tried to oppose him with just a few carefully chosen words. Dom had worked for plenty of other mercenaries — Edward Fyers most recently — but none of them were as dangerous as Slade Wilson. Not in his opinion, anyway.

Even when in a state of repose, Wilson's body resembled that of a caged tiger. Every muscle rippled with a lethal grace. Every limb reminded Dom of a cobra poised to strike at the precise moment when his hapless prey crossed his path. His one eye, when it met Dom's, gleamed with anticipation, amusement, and something primal that he didn't care to define.

It was not hard to figure out why he had been given the moniker of _Deathstroke_ by Amanda Waller. The man was beyond dangerous. What Wilson did to Star City, and Oliver Queen before finding himself imprisoned upon the island he had been marooned upon was just the beginning of what he was capable of. Dom found himself immensely thankful that he had chosen employment with Wilson over Lex Luthor.

The likelihood that he would continue breathing was greater in the employment of Wilson.

So long as he provided the answers Wilson was currently demanding.

"My apologies for not remaining at the Sanctuary as you ordered but…" He was silenced with one fierce look. He swallowed the rest of what he intended to say and fought to keep his body from trembling.

"I strongly recommend that you explain why you are here and not at the Sanctuary," Wilson repeated, much firmer this time. Wilson slowly made his way around the desk to stand in front of Dom. "And I suggest you do so before what little of my patience expires."

Dom felt a shiver as the threat underscoring those words sunk in. If he didn't explain himself, and quickly, there would be hell to pay. The kind that could result in either great pain or the loss of life. He stared at his employer as he organized his thoughts into some semblance of order. Wilson looked every inch a modern-day pirate with the patch over one eye, three days' worth of stubble darkening his cheeks, and his more salt-than-pepper hair neatly banded at his nape.

His black tunic fit him loosely, the top two buttons left undone and revealing an expanse of smooth skin and taut muscle. His cargo pants molded to his muscular thighs. They were tucked into the top of a pair of heavy combat boots. All that was missing to complete the ensemble was a cutlass at his hip and a pistol stick in the sash looped around his trim waist.

"The hunter you wanted found and brought to you," he said. "He has been brought to the Sanctuary."

"Has he now?" A dark gleam flickered in that dark eye. A minimal amount of interest given the information that Dom just imparted to him. "And when did this happen?"

The silk undercoating inside that dark purr was exactly what Dom knew it was intended as: a warning. He had better talk fast and get back to his post at the Sanctuary. Doing otherwise could result in one of the swords strapped to the wall behind Slade's chair going through a part of his body that he would not enjoy or much appreciate.

"He was brought to the Sanctuary this morning."

"And how was he located?"

"He was part of the group that Negan made pay for attacking his outpost."

One dark brow lifted.

"The hunter was part of the attack on Negan's outpost?"

"Yes," Dom confirmed. "He was also the one who blew up Negan's men with an RPG."

"Did he now?" Amusement flickered momentarily across Wilson's face. "That is not a move I would expect from a man without military training."

"The hunter seems to posses a number of exceptional skills for one lacking formal training."

"Yes, he does." Wilson gave a slight nod of agreement. "And what does Negan plan to do with the hunter now that he has him in his possession?"

"He wants to turn the hunter. Make him one of his men."

"And that would be a wise move on Negan's part," he said, lips thinned in disapproval. "If I had not already made it clear that I wanted the bastard brought to me if and when he was found."

Dom took a deep breath and screwed up the courage to reveal the rest of what he had been sent here to tell Wilson.

"We believe the Harper kid brought the hunter to Negan for that reason." At Wilson's questioning look he explained. "Negan likes the hunter. He will want to keep him. Harper knows that."

"So," Slade mused as he perched on the edge of his desk. "Harper is an operative inside Negan's little band of survivors."

"Yes." Dom paused, swallowed. "So is Raya Kean."

Interest immediately flickered at hearing that name.

"Is she now?"

"Yes."

"Was she attired in her armor?"

"No. She has not worn her armor when she's been at the Sanctuary."

"She has been unmasked?" Wilson's fingers clamped down so hard upon the ancient wood that it groaned in protest. "And walking around Negan's compound without any of you noticing until now?"

"We couldn't be sure it was her." Dom reached into his pocket. "Not until this was found." He tossed something silvery on the desk next to Wilson's right hand. "That confirmed it was her."

Slade picked up the item — an earring — and held it between the tips of his long fingers. The waterfall of aquamarine stones and small, silver robins gleamed in the light. His eye narrowed speculatively. Dom saw the faint flicker of recognition that swept across his swarthy face and thanked Liam for having suggested he present it to him as evidence the woman had been found.

"Where was this found?"

"Outside of Negan's bedroom."

Something moved behind that eye, like sharks swimming in a dark, turbulent ocean. Dom shuddered, but found he couldn't look away. His skin crawled at the malice and hate that darkened Wilson's face.

"Outside of his bedroom?" The words were a low growl. Like that of a jaguar stalking prey through the Amazonian rainforest. He flicked his gaze to Dom, scorching him with its heat. "Is she one of his wives?"

"No." Dom shook his head. "Not that I am aware of, anyway. She does, however, stay very close to Negan."

A nod was all that was given to that.

"Return to the Sanctuary," Wilson ordered in a low tone. "Inform Negan that I will be paying a call on him to discuss the terms of our agreement."

Dom took that as his dismissal and exited the makeshift office without another word.

…

He giggled while he pulled the trigger.

And cried as he giggled.

Huge tears drizzled down his cheeks and pooled in the cracks and crevices of his mangled mouth. The salty taste of them mixed with his glee and brought on a fresh wave of mirth.

"Oops! Missed!" He cackled. "My aim doesn't seem to be what it once was!"

The gun belched another burst of white-hot flame as he pulled the trigger again. The bullet whistled as it left the chamber and then there was a sound, much like that of a head exploding after a ball bat cracked against it. Blood poured from the black perforation in the middle of the adorable little cherub's chest. The stain blossomed into what he thought was the prettiest of flowers.

"A perfect rose for Batsy's pretty little Fenix," he chortled. "What gift could be better?"

 _None_ , he decided as he canted his head to the side and examined his work. Surprise, horror, fear and pain darkened the depths of eyes the same color as Robin's. _All four of the snot-nosed little brats_ , he thought as his chuckles slowly trickled into silence.

He had personally chosen this boy to play this very special part in this production he was staging because of how closely he resembled the committee of Boy Wonders that his dear Dark Knight had running around with him throughout their long and lustruous relationship.

Dark of hair, small-limbed, cute as a button, and obnoxious as jock itch. The boy fell back upon the cracked pavement with only the tiniest of sounds escaping a mouth stained crimson. He spun in a circle, arms splayed wide, pleased that everything was turning out even more gloriously than he imagined it would.

 _And why shouldn't everything go spectacularly_? He asked himself as he stuck the pistol in the band of his trousers. He had gone to an insanely huge amount of trouble to make sure everything would be perfect. His eyes narrowed, and a spiteful sneer graced his lips.

Everything had better turn out just as he planned it...

 _Otherwise, there'll be hell to pay._

Just as quickly as his thoughts turned dark, they returned to being jolly. He skipped over to look down at the bleeding and broken boy. Those blue eyes stared up at him, vacant of anything but the lingering realization that his short little life was about to come to a stunning end.

"My, my," he purred as he circled him. "But don't you look like a sleeping angel?"

The infernal droning of the undead broke the silence. He glanced up, eyes narrowed at being so rudely interrupted. Well, it was his own fault, really. He had specifically chosen to leave his present where he was sure it'd be found by his intended recipient. Warehouse in the middle of nowhere, fifteen-year-old boy that he beat with a crowbar, it was symbolism at its finest!

Oh, if only this was Gotham! He would have chosen the very alley where the second, huskier Robin tried to boost the tires off the Batmobile. Ah, that was such a fun time! The guts of that little scamp were precisely _why_ he had chosen him to replace the first Robin. The boy had been perfect for the role! He was everything a _good_ Robin should be. Bold, brash, fearless, ambiguously moralistic and willing to do what the old man couldn't: _kill_.

Now, granted, the boy had given him a wee bit of trouble after he put on those fetching little green panties and matching hooker boots. He expected he would. _I, mean, really_ , he thought as he looked back down at the boy lying in the middle of an ever-growing pool of red.

 _I gave him the prestigious role of my agent of chaos_. It just wouldn't have been seemly if he did not live up to the part. Besides, watching as his dear Dark Knight did everything he could to mold the boy into a suitable partner turned into the greatest bit of entertainment he could have hoped for.

He cackled, one deep, throaty laugh while he recalled the hours upon hours of enjoyment he'd received during that time. He'd watched from the sidelines as the boy struggled with those pesky principles his beloved possessed. His Robin had willfully defied his darling's edicts and obtained justice the way he felt a real Robin should. Why, he had even aided — quite happily! — his little puppet in wreaking havoc across the city.

All so he could see how Batsy dealt with a protegé who didn't believe in his edicts. More droplets rolled down his cheeks as he recalled how frazzled the big guy had gotten. _Was sure he was gonna explode a few times,_ he thought as the droning got closer _._ He ignored the diseased rodents. No, the rotting masses did not matter to him. Not in the slightest. The only thing that he cared about was the boy dead at his feet. This gift was the gift that would keep on giving. People everywhere would be clamoring for his new line of Robin dolls!

 _Not that they will ever live up to the enjoyment I had with my little Robin._

Oh, but his Robin had not been some mere toy he liked to tinker with when bored. No, no. He fully intended the boy would serve as his coup d'état, his way of overthrowing those pesky little morals his Batsy had and finally bringing him around to seeing what he had tried to tell him for years: that he was just as crazy as the rest of 'em.

 _He just manages to hide it better than some of the crazies he's locked up in Arkham._

The plan had been brilliant! It had been a _guaranteed_ success. He had finally figured out how to get around Batman's one little golden rule about not killing. He had discovered the perfect way to bring Batman down to his level. Kill Robin and Batman was _sure_ to explode! His rage, his grief, his desire for vengeance would cloud his judgment and break him free from those moralistic chains that bound him.

He would finally see the world as he, himself saw it.

He would finally see the dawn at the edge of the night. Batman would finally realize who, and what he really was.

It had been the final gift he planned to give his love.

 _And yet_ , he thought now, a frown feathering his brow. _The lil' scamp survived_. How he had managed to do it, he did not know. Nor did he much care. All that mattered to him was that the Robin he beat to death with a crowbar before blowing him into a bazillion itty bitty pieces in a warehouse in Ethiopia had somehow, _somehow_ managed to survive. _And he not only survived, but he took my old name to boot_!

He planted his fists on his bony hips and tapped his foot. Red Hood, indeed. Why, he made a mockery of everything he stood for! How dare he play such a cruel joke on him. _Him_! The Man Who Laughs! It wasn't even like the joke was all that funny. _I, mean, really! Faking your own death_? _Who even does that anymore? Well,_ he thought as a giggle escaped from between his pursed lips _. Besides me, of course._

No, it was quite cruel when he got right to the heart of it. _And that is why this plan is so brilliant!_ _I can't fail this time!_ He had not only chosen his Robin because he looked like all the others, but he didn't make the foolish mistake of expecting him to _stay_ dead. Not when undead was sure to get him the reaction he wanted!

His mangled lips twitched into what could almost be called a _smile_ as he told the slowly awakening boy, "Why, they're just gonna love you, kiddo."

He giggled as he circled around his greatest masterpiece to date. Yes, everything was going exactly as he planned. _Well_ , he corrected as the boy twitched, _this time_. All his hopes and dreams were about to come true. All that was left was the princess to finally fulfill her part.

"You're gonna call Batman for me." His grin stretched across his garrulous features. "You won't tell me no again!"

No, the little darling would do exactly as he told her. She wouldn't stop him from achieving his heart's desire. _Not gonna stop me from breaking the Bats this time, Toots_!

The boy groaned as his body started the slow process of reanimation. His tiny fingers twitched, his skinny legs jerked, and those blue eyes staring so lifelessly at him from behind the fetching little green domino he placed on him earlier, started to go that feral shade of yellow. Oh, he could just imagine the look on the little lovely's face when she saw the gift he left for her.

Her anger wouldn't be the same as the big guys, but it would be enjoyable while it lasted!

His grin stretched wider as he eyeballed his work one last time before he turned to leisurely stroll across the shop floor. He really felt like dancing, though. And why shouldn't he? _Robin_ was finally going to fulfill his role as his coup d'état. Oh, sure, he wasn't the real Robin, but who cared? It was only a minor detail! A tiny substitution! Besides, the importance lay not in the accuracy of the one he chose to play Robin, but in the significance of the gift itself.

A warehouse, some bombs, an undead Robin... it was history repeating itself!

He did a little jig as he headed into the loading bay. He couldn't be more pleased with how things were turning out! He was not only about to teach the princess about the consequences of telling him, no, but he was also gonna pay her back for all the times she kept him from killing a Robin. Plus, killing Fenix would cause the other winged brats to go crazy with grief.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _this is gonna be brilliant_!

It was gonna be perfect, in fact.

Batman was gonna finally break his golden rule.

He couldn't wait.

His high, keening laugh winged out through the broken windows, alerting the walking corpses just on the other side of the huge metal doors. They droned their song of hunger as he climbed into the supply van he used to bring the boy here, reciting his favorite ditty under his breath.

 _"_ Flutter, flutter, my little Bat..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	14. Fourteen

_I knew you faked your death, you sick, twisted son of a bitch..._

With an invective of other, and even more colorful words that would have Alfie's pencil-thin mustache twitching with disapproval swirling through his head, Jason Todd reared back and slammed his fist against the books lining the shelf of the small bookcase. Flesh and bone cracked, split, but the physical pain barely registered through the thick rage enveloping him in a red haze.

He took a deep, calming breath. He needed a clear head so he could figure out how exactly he was gonna get his ass to Virginia, find where that pasty-faced freak was hiding and put a bullet in him. _Should have put the son of a bitch down like the rabid dog he is years ago_.

It was a mistake he fully intended to correct.

He paced in front of the huge desk that occupied much of the small office, working out how he would get to Virginia the fastest, as well as going over what weapons and gear he would need to take with him. He stopped when a familiar _click_ broke the silence. Jason turned his head and watched as the bookcase swung out to expose the elevator hidden behind the secret panel. The concealed hinges didn't make a sound as they popped free.

Alfred personally made sure that those gears were cleaned and oiled every few days to make sure that they did not squeak or get stuck. Secrecy was, after all, a matter of the utmost importance in the Wayne household. Even now, during an apocalypse, appearances were maintained. Nobody could know _Bruce Wayne_ and _Batman_ were the same.

With visions of wringing the neck of the man who wreaked havoc on his family for more than two decades in his head, Jason entered the steel cage and slammed the iron door shut. All the times where the Clown Prince did something to a member of the family played through his mind as the elevator drifted down below Wayne Manor. Every horrific game he forced them to play, all the cruel and vile taunts he hurled at them, every traumatizing moment swam before his eyes, reminding him of the vicious monster the Joker was.

 _Sorry, Bruce, but I ain't playing by your antiquated sense of morality. Not this time_.

To his way of thinking, this reckoning was long overdue. It was cold hard justice, delivered brutally and swiftly to a man who deserved it. The Joker had chosen to mess with his family one time too many. Bruce would deny it, of course. However, Jason believed that his course of action was a fully acceptable one.

When the Joker decided to kidnap him those years ago? When he took him to that dilapidated warehouse in Ethiopia and tried to celebrate their _anniversary_ by recreating his death? He had officially crossed the line. Now, he needed to pay for those actions. Especially since they nearly broke the member of this family that he swore to always protect from the Joker.

Anger simmered in his belly, cruised along his nerve endings and exploded from his mouth in one long, foul-tasting snarl. _The Clown Prince of Crime is gonna die._ The bones in his fingers cracked and popped with how tightly he curled them into fists. _And he's gonna stay dead this time._

He'd make damn sure of it.

The elevator came to a stop. Jason stormed into the Batcave, his eyes sweeping the dim cavern as he crossed over the bridge into the lower grotto. His only companions were the bats that chirped quietly to each other as he headed past the underground garage.

His own bike was somewhere among the collection of vehicles neatly parked in their stalls. Not that it mattered. He'd take the goddamn Batmobile if he had no other options. He stalked up the stairs and found Alfred - in slippers, a faded navy robe and much-loved flannel pajama's - standing in front of the main computer station.

Having a computer at all had been a novelty to his younger self. Having one with enough data storage and computing power to hack any government computer? Well, that had been the cherry atop the hot fudge sundae. Alfred regarded Jason with eyes that said the older gentleman had something to say and Jason was not going anywhere until he got to say it. Well, he wasn't gonna listen. Not this time.

"I'm going to Virginia," he told the butler before he could speak. "And nothing you say," he added as he stopped in front of him, "is gonna stop me."

"I implore you—"

"No."

He didn't growl it. No, even as pissed off as he was, he still maintained his level of respect for the staid and proper butler. Everybody should have an Alfred was his longstanding opinion. Alfred's role was crucial to the survival of the family. He was more than just some butler or driver. He was surrogate mother and father, uncle, mentor, confidante, friend, and ally.

Alfred also tended to serve as communication relay, mechanic, information processor, and meeting organizer. By the set expression upon his face, he was choosing to play his other favorite role: moral compass.

"I will not in good conscience allow you to leave this cave," Alfred stated firmly. "Not when what you plan to do amounts to nothing more than cold-blooded murder."

Jason almost smiled at that. _Almost_.

"Not like I'm really asking for your permission here, Alfie."

A sniff greeted that statement. "This is not-"

"... how we do things in this family?" His lips twisted up at one corner. "I'm doing things as the family does them, Alfie. Especially since I ain't a member of said family."

"You are part of this family no matter how much _you_ choose to believe otherwise."

"Then by your logic," he retorted, "that is exactly why I need to go to Virginia."

"You go to Virginia for your own need for vengeance," was Alfred's stern reply. "You certainly do not go just because your family is there and needs you."

"I'm going to do what needs to be done."

He went to step around Alfred, but Alfred set a hand on his arm to detain him. Jason cut him a look that would have made anyone else back off. Not Alfred. Oh, hell no. He was made of much heartier stock than that.

"I'm putting that clown in the ground," he said bluntly. "And there's nobody who is gonna stop me. Not this time."

"You are not some hardened murderer." Steel would have been softer than Alfred's tone. "You are not the monster the Joker is."

"Then what am I, Alfie?" It was a question he'd been trying to figure out the answer to for years. "'Cause there's a list of bodies on my rap sheet that all says otherwise."

"You want to do something because a member of this family is threatened. It is how you respond to these kinds of situations. However, what you want to do is not going to make things better. In fact, killing the Joker will only make things a great deal worse."

His clipped tone warned Jason that Alfred's patience was at the end of the line. Considering how the man had to deal with Bruce? It was amazing he even had any patience left to spare. _Or sanity for that matter_.

"Alfie, who do you see when you look at me?" He heard the bite in his voice, and while it shamed him, he did not apologize for it. He had already wasted precious seconds he didn't have on this rather pointless — in his opinion, anyway — conversation. "Is he the orphaned boy Bruce brought here and handed a mask and some shorty shorts too? Or the teenager you counseled about things like school bullies and girls? Or is it the young man who got his sorry ass brought back from the dead by some Kryptonian prick and who Talia marinated in a Lazarus tub with her father?" He paused to take a breath. "I'm not the man Bruce is, Alfie. Hell, I ain't even close to the men Dickie or Timbo are. I'm not a Robin." He swallowed back the hurt that foamed up into his throat at that admission. "I never was one."

"You only think that—"

"Because it is the truth."

"No." Alfred shook his head. "It is the truth you have convinced yourself to believe."

"It is the truth because it is the man I am." He pushed around the older man and typed a series of commands into the computer. "I'm a killer, Alfie. That's what I am. That's what I can be."

"You can become more if you want to become more." A hand settled, warm and comforting on his shoulder. "You are so much more than what you see yourself as."

"Considering how I see myself as a nothing and nobody?"

"That's not what Miss Rose thinks."

Some of the wind left his sails with that subtle reminder. His head dropped forward on his chest. _Dammit, Alfie_ … he thought as he gripped the edge of the desk. _Why'd you have to go and play that card_?

He ignored the voice that said it was because it was the only one the butler knew would work to make him see reason.

"Don't you get it, Alfie?" He rasped. "I want to stop the Joker for them. To keep them from being tainted by his filth."

"My dear boy…" Alfred squeezed his shoulder. "Don't you think that Masters Bruce and Richard want to ensure the same things?"

"Yeah, I know they do, Alfie. It's just…"

"… that you want revenge for what the Joker did to you." Jason wanted to deny it but knew he couldn't. He did want revenge for what the clown had done to him. "Killing him won't make you feel better, Master Jason. You know that."

"I wouldn't have to consider it if Bruce had killed him years ago!" He slammed his fist on the workstation. "Dammit, Alfie, why didn't he kill the bastard when he had the chance? We wouldn't be having this damn debate if he had!"

An audible sigh sounded, disrupting the winged occupants above their heads. A familiar baritone said above the bats' soft chatter, "You still don't understand the reason for why I never killed the Joker. Even after all these years, and all the talks we've had, you still don't understand why it is that I never crossed that line."

Jason's temper, already at a critical level, exploded at hearing those all-too-familiar words.

"What?" he snarled as he rounded to face Bruce. "What don't I understand? That your damn code wouldn't allow you to do what needed to be done? That it was too hard for you to cross that line? What is it you think I don't understand here, Bruce? Huh?"

"No." Bruce shook his head and sighed again. "No, that's not what you have never understood, Jason. What you've never understood is how easy it would be for me to cross that line and kill the Joker." He limped towards him, leaning heavily on his cane. At that moment, he looked so human that Jason felt a shiver of alarm creep along his spine. It was a disturbing reminder about how Bruce Wayne was only a mortal among a League of meta-humans, cyborgs, and half-gods. "There is not a day that has gone by where I don't think about how much pain and suffering I'd have spared people had I done what you want me to do."

"Then why haven't you?" The question tasted foul. "Why did you allow that son of a bitch to continue breathing after everything he's done?"

"Because I wouldn't be the man I am if I had killed him."

"You dumped Kit in Virginia," Jason said in a hard whisper. "You ordered her to help the people there learn how to survive the shit this world was gonna throw at them. Well, this isn't about surviving some sort of viral outbreak. Not anymore." He shook his head. "This is the Joker. How can you expect normal people to fight a man we haven't managed to stop?"

"Raya is a strong and capable woman. She can help others to see they can not only survive this world without resorting to violence or manipulative methods but deal with men or women like the Joker."

"That's why you ordered her to stay down in Virginia?"

"Yes." Bruce nodded. "And why I sent her Damian, as well." He moved and took a seat in front of the Batcomputer. "People need to see they can rise above what has happened and become something more than just isolated bands of survivors." He sent a look over to the butler who returned it with one that Jason thought might have been slightly smug. "Who better to teach them how to rise than a woman who has done so her entire life?"

"She has kids-"

"And the help of not only the man who is her youngest brother, and best friend, but Harley Quinn, Ivy, Selina, and Wonder Girl."

" _Ivy_?" Both of Jason's eyebrows shot up at that. "Poison Ivy is a Siren?"

A nod was followed by a simple, "Yes, she is."

Jason had known Harley Quinn had gone to Virginia with Damian. Same as Selina and Wonder Girl. He had not known, however, that Poison Ivy had also journeyed South.

"Still," he insisted. "You can't expect a traumatized and barely holding it together group of people to fight a man like the Joker." Another thought came to him then. "Or Slade Wilson. Don't forget that Kit still has Wilson hounding her ass."

"And she will deal with Wilson as necessary." The computer started to beep, and Bruce reached over to type in a few commands to silence the alarm. "Raya knows to reach out if she needs help, Jason."

"She won't call for us unless the shit really hits the fan."

"Perhaps." Bruce inclined his head slightly. "However, is that pride or her believing in herself and the people around her?"

"Pride," he retorted with a snort. "Kit has too much of that and courage."

"Pride and courage are what keep her going when she wants to give up."

"They're also what get her into the most trouble," Jason pointed it out. "Especially when the Joker is the one involved. Do I gotta remind you about what happened the last time they were face-to-face? He... "His shoulders slumped as the truth came pouring out of him. "He almost broke her. She was gonna kill him. If I hadn't stopped her, she might've done it. He wanted her to do it, in fact."

Alfred's hand tightened on his shoulder. "And that would be a good reason _not_ to kill him."

"For why _she_ can't kill him, maybe." Jason turned his head to stare at the dinosaur standing there like the guardian at the gate. "I can, though. I can kill that damn clown once and for all."

"Then _you_ wouldn't be the man Miss Raya sees you as," Alfred replied smartly. "And the man that Miss Raya sees you as is the one she believes the most in."

His shoulders slumped as the impact of Alfred's words slammed home. "Why does she care so much about my no good, happy ass?" He muttered. "Not like anybody else ever gave a shit about me."

"You're hers," Bruce's velvety baritone washed over his frayed nerves, soothing them. "Fenix brings Robin home."

"I am not a Robin." His tone cracked the air like a whip. "Never really was a Robin."

"You will always be a Robin," Bruce said thickly. "You're my son, Jason. Nothing has ever changed that. Nothing ever will."

Jason felt bereft when his anger drained out of him.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked the man seated before him. As if he was fifteen-years-old and needed his dad's advice and guidance. "How do I help them?"

"Help them as you have helped them for all these years." Alfred's fingers tightened for the fraction of a second before he removed his hand and moved back. "By taking care of the members of this family. Protect people from those who will try to hurt them. Be there when and if they fall."

"And help them to rise," Bruce added. "We fall, we rise, Jason. Always remember that."

 _Rise_. It was the first lesson Bruce taught him after he started training to become Robin. _Fall because you need to learn how to get back up. Fall so that you can learn how to be strong, so you can learn how to try, try, try again_. _Fall so you learn to push back stronger and harder_.

He slowly lifted his head to look at Bruce.

"I'm still going down to Virginia," Jason said after a long, interminable pause. "I'll help them by protecting the people they're helping there. And if that clown dares to show his face..." His fists bunched at his sides. "He will meet justice." He paused, then growled, " _My_ justice."

He turned then to stalk from the cave.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	15. Fifteen

Dick exited his bedroom at the same moment Jason stormed from the upstairs study. One look at his younger brother's face was all it took to tell Dick he was a volcano set to explode. The pressure had been building inside Jason for a long time now.

An eruption of cataclysmic scales was not only imminent, but was rather overdue given how long Jason had been left to simmer and stew. He had dealt with Jason enough when he was in this vitriolic state to know he wanted to avoid being caught in the phreatic blast when it came. _He can find someone else to spew his steam-filled miasma at_ , he decided as he quietly shut the door behind him.

It wasn't like it took a lot of guesswork to figure out why Jason was in such an agitated state. Someone — and he imagined the culprit was the ever so helpful Selina Kyle — had told him about the Joker being alive and down in Virginia. If there was one man who could set his younger brother off like this, it was the Clown Prince of Crime.

 _Hopefully, Bruce managed to convince him to not go down there and kill the Joker outright_...

Not that he could rightfully blame Jason for wanting to wring the last breath from that skeletal body. What Jason endured at the Joker's hands was nothing short of hell. A stream of profanities broke the silence and papers went sailing off the desk. _Alfie will be thrilled to pick those up_ , he thought, sighing.

"Jason..." he called as Jason exited the study. "Wait up a—"

"I'm going down to Virginia," Jason said as he stalked by. "I don't suggest that you try and stop me." He shot him a look that burned with the depth of emotions tumbling around inside of him. "I will not hold back this time, Dickie."

"Jason." Dick detained his brother by setting a hand on his shoulder. "Stop. Please."

"I said—"

"I just want to talk to you."

Jason stopped, but he did not turn around.

"Did you not hear what I said?" Dick didn't need to see his face to know Jason's was hard as stone. "I am going down to Virginia." A scowl got shot over one shoulder. "And you won't stop me. Not this time."

"I don't plan on stopping you."

"Oh?" The shoulder beneath his palm stiffened. "You won't?"

"No, I won't. In fact, I plan on supporting your decision to go down there." He spoke simply and honestly. It was the best way to deal with Jason. It saved on the blood and broken bones. "I want to help you, however, I can, in fact."

Jason partly turned towards him. Even in the dim shadows filling the hallway, Dick could see his face was a mask of hard planes and steely determination. _Just like Bruce's when he's dead-set on a course of action._

"Yeah?" A thin note of suspicion crept into his voice, on his face. "And why's that?"

"Because knowing you're there to help with handling anything that might happen provides me with a small measure of comfort." He squeezed Jason's shoulder gently. "Having three Rob—"

"Not you, too," Jason groused. "Look, I'm not a Robin. I haven't been one in years." Beneath his palm, Dick felt his shoulder droop. It was a clear sign of how much emotional turmoil Jason was in at that moment. "Hell, we both know I wasn't much of one when I did wear the mantle of Robin."

Dick felt his heart constrict at hearing so much self-loathing and doubt come from a man with as much pride as Jason possessed. _You don't see how much like Bruce you really are, do you_? he asked him silently. _It was why he chose you as Robin. You were so much more like him than I ever was. And that_ , Dick realized as he stood there and studied the man before him, was a huge part of the discord between the two men.

Jason came with a wealth of emotional baggage and an island full of never healed traumas. He tended to internalize a lot of his feelings in self-doubts and an endless amount of guilt and self-blame. However, where Bruce chose to channel his rage into doing things designed for the greater good of humanity, Jason used it to fuel the anger and hate that filled much of his heart and soul before venting it at whoever, or whatever got in his way.

However, below those virulent emotions was a man who felt keenly for the people he allowed into his inner circle.

 _And for the family he routinely deprives himself of having a real connection with_.

He didn't say any of that to Jason, though. It would only result in the two of them getting into a pointless confrontation that would likely end up with one of them — and everything pointed to it being Jason — throwing a haymaker that would result in them tussling in the middle of the hall until Alfred came along to chastise them for their childishness. He did decide to correct Jason about one thing, though.

"You will always be a Robin." He spoke quietly, but it didn't mask the steel beneath the words. He needed to let Jason know that he would not accept any of his usual argument about this fact. He was a Robin and it was beyond time he came to terms with it. "And right now, having three Robins to fight the Joker with is almost as good as having one Batman." A small smile curved his lips. "Especially when one of those Robins is also the best able to corral the current acting one."

"Right."

"You're the best equipped at keeping Damian from going after the Joker on his own."

"Kit won't let him do that. She would ship his ass back here if she thought he was planning something like that."

"She could still use your help with him." His lips stretched into a small smile. "I'm sure she's sick of separating him and Tim."

"Yeah, well, they could still use Batman." He glanced at Dick from over his shoulder. Some of the anger had faded from his eyes. However, Dick knew it would only take a spark to reignite that flame. "Especially the current one."

"And they will have Batman," Dick vowed in a firm voice. "Both of them if that's what's needed. However," he said as he took a step back. "What they need now is the Red Hood. Especially Raya. You kept her from giving into the Joker the last time they faced off."

Surprise raced across Jason's face.

"She told you about what happened the night of my _Deathiversary_?"

Dick nodded. "Yes, she did."

"Should have known she would tell you about what happened in that warehouse." His lips tilted upwards at the corner. "Two of you have always been thick as thieves."

"She tells you things she won't tell me, Jason."

"Yeah?" Jason lifted one brow. "Like what?"

"Like about the abuse she witnessed. And about what really happened the night her mother was killed."

"Wasn't that she didn't wanna tell you about that stuff," Jason told him quietly. "It was more she didn't want to taint your memories of your folks with hers."

"I know she doesn't want to ruin my memories." Dick sighed softly. "While I don't agree with her about it, I understand her reasons. Same as I do about why she wasn't forthcoming about the Joker being alive before now."

"She just wanted to make sure the son of a bitch is really back before calling in the troops."

"That's why I'm telling you to go down to Virginia." Dick was all seriousness then. "If anyone has any chance of finding the Joker and stopping him, it's you."

Jason weighed his words silently. Finally, he nodded, and said only, "I'll let you know what I find out."

With that, he turned and made his way down the hall. Dick watched him go, his heart heavy. Then he turned and headed to the nursery to check on his son before crashing for a few hours.

…

James Gordon's biggest secret from his days as a police officer was that when he came home from a long, and especially grueling shift, he would immediately go and check on his sleeping children. His children were the reason why he had done a great many of the things he had in his life. They were what made him be the best cop he could in a department so riddled with corruption.

It was his daughter, as well as his grandson, Richie, who kept him doing what he could for the people of Gotham. The city still needed him as much as it did Batman. They set the tone and made sure the vermin still roaming about could not win.

No matter what path the virus took, no matter what happened to them, they had to make sure that whatever filth survived would not manage to win the war they started all those long years ago. They absolutely could not let the swine have what little of the world remained.

People — good, honest, decent people — deserved every opportunity that could be given to them. Humanity had to survive. They had to make sure of that. Everything they did needed to lead to a better world for people to live in. So, he would continue doing what he could to make sure that better world happened.

He would continue doing it until he was either too old or too dead to still be doing it.

 _This world might have gone to hell in a hand-basket_ , he thought as he crossed the foyer to the main staircase and began making his way upstairs. _But it doesn't mean that we must become like the scum ruling the city's underbelly. We are better than that._ _We are better than them._

He shrugged out of his heavy overcoat as he turned at the top of the stairs and made his way down the dim corridor towards the nursery. The calm silence of Wayne Manor — his home after his neighborhood in the Narrows became overrun with the undead — was a comfort after the grueling events of the evening.

Even in the middle of an apocalypse, crime did not sleep. Not in a city like Gotham. Most often, he didn't come in until well after everyone else had gone to bed.

Not that it mattered.

His routine would be the same one he had held to for the last three and a half decades. It was going to stay the same until he could no longer keep it as such. The only change in his routine was that the Manor was missing two of its junior members.

Rose and Christopher were sleeping in an underground bunker that the man who chose to serve Gotham silently had built ahead of the virus's outbreak somewhere in Virginia. No matter. He'd continue that long-standing tradition with the newest addition to their eccentric order. A tired smile creased his lips as he dropped his coat on a table before quietly tiptoeing into the still dark nursery.

"Well, I see that you are awake," he whispered to the baby who gurgled and flailed his tiny fists. Bright blue eyes, same as his papa's, looked up at him with a face that reminded him of his Barbara's when she was that age. "Waiting for your grandfather to come and tell you a bedtime story, eh?"

Happy sounds greeted those words. Gordon chuckled and reached down to gently pick the infant up.

"I have the perfect story to tell you this time," he told him. "It's about your mother's time as a crime fighter." More gurgles sounded. "What's that you say? You didn't know she was a crime fighter? Oh, she was." He smiled at the wriggling baby. "What was her name, you ask? Well, it was Batgirl. However, you will learn to call her Oracle. And, I imagine she will one day call you Robin. Same as I have called your father and uncles."

"I'm going to tell you about the night I told your mother one thing," he said to his now silent grandson. "The night I told her to go. Why did I tell her to go?" He grunted. "Well, you'll learn that there is no stopping your mother when it comes to rescuing a member of this family from someone who means them harm."

 _Especially when the one who means to harm them is that damn clown_.

"On this night, I told her to go because I knew I would never convince her how it was best she remains at home with me. I knew I didn't have any hope of stopping her from going to where the boy was being held hostage. I knew telling her to let Batman handle the situation wasn't going to keep her put."

He turned to slowly walk towards the opposite side of the room, heedless of the shadows playing about his stockinged feet or the creeping exhaustion weighing heavier upon him with every passing year. This was his time with his grandson. The one he could have this time with, he reasoned as stifled a yawn.

Rose and Christopher were over two hundred miles away. _Do they remember me telling them this story when they spent the night here last_? he wondered as he looked down into the quiet face nestled into the crook of his arm. _Or have they forgotten it because of all the crap they have seen?_

"I told her to go," he continued, his heart just a bit sad at the time he was losing out on with his other grandchildren, "because I knew how much the boy that damned clown was threatening meant to her, because there is absolutely no reasoning with her when it is her heart leading the way, because there is no way to make her understand that boy wouldn't want her trading her life for his."

 _And that was after that boy told her that he didn't want her trading her life for his_ , he added silently.

"I told her to go because I know she is only happiest when she is with him, because there is no light in her life without him, because she is not whole without him standing by her side. I told her to go," he added with a soft sigh, "because I am her father, because I know what it feels like to watch as someone you love is in imminent danger, because I understand that fire in the belly when you see the people you love are in pain and know there is nothing you can do to stop it."

 _No matter how hard you try._

"I told her to go because love makes you sacrifice everything to save those you care about, because it lends you the strength you need to protect them, because it makes you become the hero you need to become. Go, is what I told her," he said as he slowly made his way over to lay the now sleeping infant back in his crib. "Because he is more than her partner and best friend. He's also her heart and soul."

He tucked the blanket around Richie before straightening and turning. He stopped when he saw the figure lurking just outside the doorway. _Getting more and more like your mentor with every passing year_ , he thought, stifling a smile.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asked as he slowly turned towards his son-in-law. "Or is a better question, how much did you hear of what I was telling Richie?"

Dick's teeth flashed as he stepped into the room.

"I pretty much heard everything you told him."

"Well." Gordon sniffed. "Every damn bit of it is the truth."

"I know it is." Dick slowly padded over to look down at his sleeping son. "And are the reasons for why you will tell her to go if Richie is ever in trouble." He reached down to stroke his fingers over his son's downy head. "Same as I will always go if he's ever in trouble. He and Barbara are my world. I'd be lost if I lost them."

"I think that is every parent greatest fear."

"I didn't fully appreciate how Bruce and Raya felt until Richie came along. Now?" His lips curved faintly. "Now, I get it."

"Being a parent teaches you a whole new level of paranoia."

"Not that Bruce isn't paranoid enough," Dick lightly joked. "Or any of the rest of us for that matter."

Gordon grunted.

"That clown being back doesn't help matters."

"No, it doesn't." Dick's smile was just a bit bitter and his tone one that indicated just how hard that time had been on him emotionally. "Not that we should be surprised that he's back."

"Have you any idea how he managed to fool us?"

"No." Dick heaved a sigh. "I'm going to assume that whoever you and Bruce burned in that crematorium was a carefully selected patsy."

Gordon set a hand upon his shoulder. "Now that we know he's back we will find a way to stop him before he accomplishes whatever it is he has planned."

"I have a feeling that what he wants is to push Raya into doing what she refused the night he shot Tim."

Gordon's eyebrows feathered up. "And what's that, son?"

"Call Batman."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	16. Sixteen

When Diana was a little girl she told her mother and aunt — much to their amusement — that she would never fall in love. To the young princess's way of thinking, love was nothing more than a game played by selfish, thoughtless, and careless men. One did not need love to have children. Wasn't she, as well as all the other children who had been born proof that men were only necessary for conception purposes?

For years, her mother, aunt, as well as many of the other women of their clan told her how men were not for pleasure. There was nothing, but pain, misery, and treachery found in their arms. No mortal man could step foot on Themyscira without the promise of death.

Even the male gods trod lightly when walking on their sacred shores. This, Diana believed, meant men were something to scorn, avoid, and deal with as quickly as possible.

To love a man was more than foolish or even reckless.

It was tantamount to suicide.

As she grew into a woman, she saw how mercurial love could be. Fickle, feckless, faithless. However, she discovered something about love. Something that not even her mother and aunt seemed aware of. Or simply did not care about. Men were not the only ones who caused extreme pain and suffering. Women were also quite capable of inflicting great harm upon those they bestowed their love and affection.

Many of her fellow Amazonian's fought over the right who could enslave the men that found themselves imprisoned upon their island. The winners would drag the men away and take advantage of them before casting them back into the very ocean that delivered them to their shore in the first place.

Diana found the practice appalling.

Worse, however, was seeing her friends give away their hearts and their bodies away to people who professed their undying love for them, who swore they'd protect them, but who callously; cruelly tossed them aside when done with them. Love, the teenaged Diana decided, meant that one would have their heart crushed once a lover obtained whatever pleasure could be derived from their relationship.

That, she swore to the heavens in a youthfully impetuous act, would not be her fate. No man or woman would ever make _her_ act so foolish; careless. She would never allow herself to become a slave to this thing called _love_.

She chose instead to focus on her training, honing her skills and abilities, and becoming an unconquerable warrior and not a victim of some emotion. If it was not something she could defeat in battle, she wanted nothing at all to do with it.

Aphrodite heard Diana's impassioned proclamation and took it as a personal challenge. Diana would soon find herself learning the greatest lesson in love. Before dying at the hands of the traitorous God of War, Ares, the Goddess of Love manipulated a sequence of events that would forever change Diana's life. Through her carefully orchestrated machinations, the war of man came to disturb the quiet solitude Themyscira provided them.

The conflict in the outside world brought a young Allied captain named Steve Trevor to the island. Grievously injured, and in need of help, Diana plucked Steve from the wreckage and nursed him back to health. Steve proved the perfect foil to Diana's reticence about love.

Through him, Diana discovered that her true destiny lay in aiding Man's World. She could help them defeat the forces trying to destroy it. From Steve she would learn about such things as human sacrifice, fighting for the greater good, believing in something so much that it lent strength where none existed, and above all else: the power of love.

Yes, Diana, Wonder Woman, Princess of Themyscira, daughter of Zeus and Queen Hippolyta, would discover how men were not merely tools used for reproductive purposes. They could also give a woman with the greatest of pleasure. Simply by conversing with her, engaging in a battle of wit or asking her for her opinions brought a glow to her heart that rivaled that of the sun.

A hand set on the small of her back could bring her either comfort or the quiet acknowledgment that she was not alone. Joy could be taken in simple acts like moving around a dance floor, sharing an ice cream sundae or sitting together and watching the sunset. Not all men were traitors or war mongers as her mother and aunt proclaimed.

They were also the fiercest of friends, the strongest of allies, and the staunchest of supporters.

Diana saw what the world of man was capable when they believed in something hard enough. The Great War exacted a great toll upon the mortal world. Good men and women died for what they believed in. She saw mortals at their very best, and at their very worst during those long, grueling years. She aLao witnessed firsthand what they could do in the name of hatred, and the lengths they'd go to preserve the thing they held most dear: _love_.

From a carefully crafted plot by the Goddess of Love, Diana learned to believe in something other than the sword in her hand or the godly powers that flowed through her veins. While working alongside the very humans Ares, and a group called Nazis, sought to destroy, she started to believe in the very emotion she once proclaimed to the heavens she would never allow herself to fall victim too. Steve once told her it wasn't about what people deserved. It was about what she believed.

She believed in love.

 _Love, after all_ , she thought as she stood at the window and watched the sunrise, is the only thing that can save a world that is on the brink of destruction. _That is why I stay and continue to fight, to give to the world. I know a better world is still possible. That is my mission. That is what I can do_. _I can help them find their way._

Like Steve helped her find her way.

Diana's throat tightened as an image appeared in the frost coating the window. There he was in his pilot's flight gear, standing beside a plane, and smiling that secretive little smile she found so charming. So handsome and happy, eager for his life, and whatever adventures awaited him to begin.

So very much alive.

Tears welled, and there was the familiar stirring of a never gone grief, but she smiled through the hurt and the pain. She reached out to set her hand upon the frosty glass, remembering the time, the place, and the people she had met. Steve had loved her, but he was now gone.

The love he had awakened inside her had never faded, though. It had simply grown, encompassing all the mortal world. One of those her love encompassed was a man who also started off as a friend. Time allowed that love to grow into something deep and lasting. For years, she and Bruce fought to save the world. Partners in justice and now in life, as well.

 _I used to want to save the world for Steve_ , she thought as she sighed and removed her hand from the glass. _Now, I want to save it for myself. And for the family I've been blessed with having._

"Penny for your thoughts?"

A smile curved Diana's lips as that smooth voice Bruce used when he wasn't Batman broke the silence. _How long has he been standing there_? She found herself wondering. That the man could still move as silent as a lone winter wind despite the need to use a cane both amused and amazed her.

"I'm afraid you would need change," she replied as she slowly turned to face. He stood in the doorway, hair still damp and curling from a shower, his face freshly shaved. A smile hovered on her lips as she took in what he considered as his _around the house attire_. As if gray slacks and a white button down, constituted casual wear. "My thoughts are not worth a penny."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Believe me," she assured him with a slight wave of her hand. "You wouldn't find my thoughts worth much."

"I will always find your thoughts worth the price I pay for them."

"Even if the price includes a few bruises?"

"Especially if they include a few bruises."

She shook her head.

"You've always been a glutton for punishment."

A slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes was the closest she got to an actual smile. The long years of sleepless nights, brutal battles, countless injuries, multiple personal traumas, and stress had taken a toll on him. A few silvery hairs at his temple were a reminder about the passage of time and how fragile mortals were.

There would come a day when Bruce would join Steve and the others in death. It was a day she feared but accepted as part of life. _I would rather have thirty good years with him than none at all._

"Maybe," he allowed with a nod. "But that's beside the point."

"What is the point?"

"What you were so lost in thought about?"

"Oh." She waves a hand dismissively. "I was just remembering is all."

He slowly limped over to join her at the window.

"Oh? And what were you remembering that it made you look so sad?"

He knew her better than a lot of people. There were times she thought he knew her better than she knew herself. She attributed that to their more than two decades of friendship.

"I was remembering Steve," she confessed finally. "It's been almost ninety-five years since he died."

"I'm sorry that I never got to meet him." A faint hint of sorrow darkened his eyes. Diana imagined he was thinking of other friends they had lost either to war, some virus running rampant across the Earth or the machinations of mercurial men likening themselves to new gods. "He sounds like a good friend to have during times like these."

"He was a good friend," she agreed with a nod. "You would have liked him. And he," she added quietly, "would have liked you."

"Despite my inability to develop healthy interpersonal relationships with people?"

"You may struggle with maintaining your relationships with the people you allow to get close to you," she told him, "but that does not mean you lack the ability to love. Your deep love for humanity far outweighs your anger and your hatred. You have dedicated your life to the greater good, Bruce. You have always believed in tempering vengeance with compassion, and balancing justice with mercy."

"Same as you." A smile softened the harsh planes of his face. "You have always believed in love."

"I have seen love conquer hatred." Her smile was full of memories. Good, as well as bad. "I have seen love save this world from the force's trying to destroy it. I know that it will save the world now."

"Yes, but." A pensive frown darkened his brow. "Will there be a world left that is even worth saving?"

Diana set her hand atop the one curved around the top of the cane he leaned heavily upon.

"Of course, there will be a world left that is worth saving." Her brow puckered at the momentary fear and doubt that darkened the irises of his eyes. "Why would you think there won't be a world left saving?"

He was silent for a moment. Diana used that time to study his face. It told her little. Not that she found that all that surprising. Bruce was a master at concealing his thoughts, and his feelings. It was a point of contention between him and the children he chose to adopt and raise as his own. Finally, he sighed and looked at her.

"I'm beginning to think that those who say we are fighting something that we have no hope of defeating are right."

Diana knew who a few of those that thought they should stop fighting were. They were nonbelievers, people who were content to let the virus run its course before picking up the pieces and starting again. Diana wasn't willing to give up. No more than she believed that Bruce was ready to give up.

"They're wrong, Bruce."

"Are they wrong, Diana?" He drew in a breath and released it slowly. "Or are we?"

"No." She shook her head. "They're wrong. We will beat this virus. I know we will."

"Diana-"

"We will beat this virus, Bruce" Her fingers squeezed his. Comfort, strength, security. "We will find a way to stop people from dying and reanimating as empty husks. And once we do, we will then help the mortal world to rebuild. Stronger and better than ever. Trust me on this."

"I do trust you, Diana. And I believe you see a world that can be saved." He heaved another sigh. This one sounded weary. And the shoulders that had for so long carried the weight of the world upon them, dropped. "I'm just beginning to think that this is a losing battle."

Seeing a man like him filled with such doubt hurt. Bruce had always been the most stalwart of Earth's defenders. Even when things looked their darkest, he rallied and came back strong. Nothing had ever managed to break that indomitable spirit he possessed. Until this, she realized with a curl of dread. This virus was doing what the Joker, Darkseid, and even Bane couldn't: breaking Batman. _I believe,_ she thought as she squared her shoulders and faced him fully. _I believe enough for the both of us._

"Why do you think that we are fighting a losing battle?"

He nodded to the snow and ice-covered world that was outside the window.

"It's been three years since this virus first started and things are barely holding together."

"And? What does that have to do with anything? Many viruses took decades to discover cures. You know that."

"I do." He nodded. "Yes."

"Then be patient and continue running your tests. A cure will present itself soon enough."

"Those viruses all had stages where testing showed a cure was at least possible. We are nowhere near close to figuring out whether there is a cure for this virus or not." He reached out to trace the thin web of ice that had formed on the window. "Same as we are no closer to stopping the time particles from escaping through the holes the Flash punched in the Speed Force during his last time jump."

"We will get there, Bruce." She spoke gently, but firmly. Confident not only in her opinions but in the abilities of those working hard to solve the world's dilemma. "I believe that between you, Luthor, Mr. Fox, and the rest of the League that a cure will not only be found, but that the holes in the Speed Force will be closed, and Flash returned safely to us."

A look of regret flickered across his face.

"I just wish I knew we could get Flash and Clark back."

Both eyebrows shot up at that.

"Is that what you have paced the floors about the last few nights? Getting Flash and Clark back from wherever they ended up?"

"It's part of it," he admitted with a grimace. "But it's not the only thing that has been on my mind the last few days."

Diana moved to sit on the bed.

"Then what is it that has been bothering you?"

Bruce limped over to take a seat beside her.

"It's many things, really."

"Such as?"

"It is seeing the world come apart at the seams, seeing friends suffer terrible losses..." Diana waited, knowing he would tell her what the real problem was in his own time. Finally, he sighed and said, "It's the Joker."

"You don't know he is back."

Bruce didn't seem inclined to speculate.

"No," he said seriously. "He's back." His fingers curled on the handle of his walking stick. "I'm sure of it. The samples that Raya sent here with Selina all confirm the presence of Joker's venom."

"That only proves that someone has found a way to either manufacture his Venom or knows how to make the toxin for themselves," she pointed out. "Has he been seen? Physically seen?"

"Physically, no."

"If he has not physically bend seen..." One dark brow arched. "Then how can you be sure that he has returned? This could be a copycat, Bruce."

"Raya left something else with the samples that confirm he's returned."

"What was it she left?"

Bruce reached into the pocket of his trousers and removed something he handed to her. It was a playing card, she saw. An ordinary playing card. Then she turned it over and saw a colorful jester smiling back at her. A Joker, she realized. The calling card of the Clown Prince of Crime. She read the words written on the card in bright red ink:

 _Twinkle, twinkle, my dearest Bat, can you guess where I'm at?_

"By the gods..." she whispered as horror and fear washed over her in icy waves. "He _is_ alive..."

"This is his endgame," Bruce said darkly. "This is what he's been planning."

"What do you mean?" Diana shook her head. "What is he planning?"

"To create an army of Jokerfied undead that he will release on the world. Starting," he said even as she gasped. "In Virginia."

The ramifications of a Jokerfied army were not lost upon Diana."

"What do we do?"

Not that she needed to ask. There was only one thing they could do.

"We stop him, Diana." He spoke now in that voice he cultivated for his alter-ego. "We stop him before he hurts any more innocent people."

Hearing that rasp, seeing his face become hard as stone told her one thing: _Batman_ was back.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	17. Seventeen

He knew Fin wasn't in the bedroom the second he strolled in. He didn't even need to glance at the bed to know the stubborn woman had smoothed the covers back into place. He didn't need to look to know that she fluffed the pillows before folding them beneath the comforter. A quick study of the room revealed she tidied up before taking herself off to where-ever-the-fuck her ass decided it needed to go.

None of it was what he told her to do before going to discuss the rules with that hunter fuck Harper brought in.

 _Of fucking course, she didn't do what I told her to do_ , Negan groused as he walked over to pick Lucille up off the pillows stacked on the headboard. _What the fuck did I expect? That she'd willingly wait here for me to get back?_

A voice whispered in the back of his head, 'You absolutely did expect her to wait here for you.'

It wasn't like the voice was completely wrong. He had anticipated her cute lil' ass waiting in bed for him. The whole time he was letting that hunter – _Daryl_ , he amended silently – know he now owned him he spent envisioning how he'd soothe Fin's ruffled feathers.

'That's why you're pissed about her not being here,' that voice said. 'You wanted to indulge in a little hanky-panky before getting some shut-eye.'

Negan couldn't deny he hadn't been looking forward to a lil' dancing in the sheets. Fin falling asleep on top of him after lulling his snake to sleep was the highlight of his day.

However, her not being there to indulge his whims was only part of what was twisting his innards into knots. There was also the fact that she disobeyed his direct order. He, as well as Carson, told her to stay the fuck there and rest. He expected her to do exactly that.

He was King of this castle and his word was law.

However, Fin was also Fin.

Her willingly and knowingly _obeying_ anything he told her would be sign the world was about to officially come to a fucking end. Normally, he got a tickle out of her willful refusal to bow to his command. _I sometimes tell her to do shit just to get a rise out of her_.

Getting Fin riled up was one of his favorite pastimes.

Especially since he always got to soothe those ruffled feathers once he got done screwing with her.

There was a limit to how much of her shit he'd tolerate, though. _When she shows the fuck up with bruises on her jaw and down her back is when enough is enough_. Not that Fin adhered to that ideology any more than she did to obeying. Hell, no, the hardheaded woman had some ridiculous notion about _bruises_ being part of the deal the world offered them. Not that she didn't have a point, he begrudgingly admitted. To live in this world, to survive it, one had to fight.

To fight meant risking life and limb. There was no guarantee that anyone stepping outside the walls of whatever they were living in when the sun came up in the morning would return home safe and sound when it set that evening. Life was no Nintendo game. There wasn't a reset button to press, extra lives or checkpoints someone could start over from. Do something stupid and it was lights out, see ya, try again next lifetime.

Stupid was how many people got themselves killed in the early days of this shit. He saw dozens of moronic decisions after escaping the hospital with that kid. _Never even learned the kid's name_ , he realized with a small pang. _Really oughta have asked it_.

There hadn't exactly been time for introductions, though. Undead fucks had been crawling everywhere. Getting the fuck outta the hospital with their skin still intact took precedence over things like niceties.

Not that it mattered in the end.

One dumb move was all it took.

They stopped in the parking garage to take a breath, regroup, find a vehicle with enough gas to get them as far away from the hospital as they could get. He'd been imparting words of advice to the kid — thirteen being a crucial age in a boy's sexual development — but turned away to look at a row of cars in hopes of finding one that would get him and the kid the fuck outta Dodge.

Next thing, the kid was screaming his full head off as some undead fuck tore into his arm.

 _As if he was some nice, juicy steak fresh off the grill._

Nothing he thought about doing would have saved the kid. He was a goner soon as that fucking fuck bit into him.

A victim of stupidity.

His as much as the kid's.

More dumb shits followed as the weeks went by. Paul and them buncha fucks in the woods. The couple who left their daughter behind to get torn apart by the undead because they didn't know what to do. The woman who abandoned her sick husband, Dewey because she didn't think there was any point in trying to help him. Endless tales of people who flipped their shit and left loved ones behind.

Like he left Lucille.

 _Couldn't even put her down as I should have,_ he thought, gut clenching. _I was shaking from killing them other fucks. I couldn't bring myself to go in there and do that shit to her. Had to get the kid to do it for me._

A kid who died less than half an hour later.

 _Good deed gets repaid by being torn to death by some sick fuck._

He thought it was a load of horse shit then and he thought it the same now. _Kid deserved better than he got, goddamn it_.

He reached his breaking point a few weeks after the wife who left her husband for dead. It came when a girl whose father sacrificed his life so she could fucking live ended up getting herself and her brother killed because she wasn't paying one fucking bit of attention to shit.

He left her outside that Walmart, sobbing her pretty little eyes out and bleeding from the bite to her throat.

To die.

To turn.

To wander aimlessly until some compassionate asshole came along to put her down. He no longer gave a fuck. He was tired of watching people die from stupidity. He decided to go it alone from then on. Numbers might be safer but not if every fucking body he came across ended up as chow.

Then Dwight found him sitting alone in the woods, roasting a rabbit he managed to shoot, and staring pensively into the fire. They talked shop while sharing that rabbit. Something in Dwight's manner convinced him to go back to where his wife — _ex-wife_ , he silently amended with a faint smile — was staying with a bunch of other people.

One look at their faces told him that these people weren't like the other fucks he met. These people wanted to survive. They were willing to listen, work together, and do what the fuck needed doing. Nobody else was gonna die because they were a dumb piece of shit.

They needed someone to lead them, though. To teach them how. Show them the way. To make the decisions they didn't want too.

He decided it may as well be him.

Someone needed to take charge, to set rules, establish some boundaries.

If he was going to take the bull by the horns and bash in the skull of raping fucks?

Why shouldn't it be him who took up the role as leader?

He couldn't save his Lucille, but he could save these people. He could bring civilization back to the world. Establish order. Create consequences and hand out punishments for rule breakers.

Slowly, people pulled together. They worked together to turn the Sanctuary into a veritable fucking fortress. Crops got planted, ammunition found and stored, supplies and things obtained.

All because of him.

 _He_ kept people alive.

 _Her days running around footloose and fancy fucking free are over_ , he decided. _She's gonna keep her ass here at the Sanctuary and let me worry about shit._

Not that Fin would agree to _that_ willingly, either.

Not that he gave a shit about whether she agreed or not.

She had responsibilities. People needed her. _I need her_. The thought brought him up short. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the side of the bed where she normally slept. A plethora of thoughts ran through his mind and taunted him with a truth he wasn't ready to admit but couldn't avoid.

Not when the truth was all around him.

Everywhere he looked he saw something that reminded him of Fin. Her clothes were folded next to his in the dresser. A few dresses hung beside his leather jacket in the small closet. Her jewelry, combs and the clips she used in her hair were laid out on the bathroom vanity. Her scent clung to the burgundy colored towels hanging on the rack in the bathroom. Her toothbrush was beside his in the holder.

Their lives were completely intertwined. She was his. She admitted as much when she announced to all and sundry a few months ago that she was his queen.

 _Goddamnit_ , he groused as he gripped Lucille's smooth handle tightly. _I do need her_.

He needed her in ways he hadn't needed any woman but Lucille.

He couldn't deny that.

Not anymore.

After he left Lucille in that hospital, he no longer felt anything emotionally.

Not happiness. Not sadness. Not fear.

Even sex brought him no pleasure outside the physical. He was dead inside. That was good. That was fucking great. Far as he was concerned, not feeling shit was why he was alive when so many others were dead.

Then Fin strolled into his life.

Shit went kiddywampus from there.

With Fin, he felt alive.

She made him feel like the kind of man that classy broads like her and Lucille deserved. An honest, decent man who could commit himself to his wife and only his wife.

The kind of man he was until something broke inside him and convinced him it was okay to lie and screw around on her.

On his beautiful Lucille.

It took her getting sick to wake his ass up, to make him realize what he was doing, and how empty it left him feeling inside.

Only it was too little, too fucking late.

All the time he devoted to whatever the fuck her name was he could have spent with Lucille.

And what made shit worse? What made him feel even lower than a two-dollar whore giving hand jobs in back alleys? Having Lucille ask him why he chose her. The "sick one" as she called herself.

As if there was any other choice for him to make.

She was his everything.

And he left her to rot on a stinkin' hospital floor.

Fin tugged at him in ways he hadn't thought any woman, but Lucille could. Did he love her? That was the question that was no longer coming back with the resounding hell to the fucking no it once did.

He felt something for her that went beyond a deep and abiding desire to lose himself inside her for a few pleasurable hours. He missed her when she was gone. He enjoyed their teasing banter, heated debates, the quiet conversations they'd have about this fucked up mess they were living in. Having her here at the Sanctuary for the last few months, preparing meals with her, playing with Jordan, and falling asleep with her curled up beside him every night settled him in ways he hadn't been since before this shit mess started.

Since before Lucille got sick.

It was more than the unimportant shit with Fin. Being there when she got scared and needed comfort outweighed food and clothing. Knowing she could turn to him when she was suffering moments of doubt, rely on him when shit was hitting the fan and she couldn't dig her ass out was more important than material goods.

Fin needed _him._ She wanted _him_. With her, _he_ mattered. Having her assert her role as his queen and protector also did something to his heart.

It caused it to beat.

And that scared him shitless.

He couldn't lose Fin like he did Lucille. He just couldn't. It would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

 _She's gonna start doing as I ordered once I find wherever she's scurried off too._

A voice in the back of his head said, 'Don't count on it.'

Negan heaved a sigh as frustration sizzled in his veins.

 _Why can't she ever do what I say without putting up a fuss about it? I'd have less gray hairs if she'd just do what I tell her_.

Again, that voice replied.

'Because you'd find yourself bored as fuck if she did everything you said without protest. Same as you are with the rest of your wives.'

The voice wasn't wrong, he realized with a small fissure of surprise. He _was_ bored with his other wives. He'd grow bored with Fin if she did everything he told her without an ounce of lip. Hell, the things that initially attracted him to her was her independence, tenacity, tough as nails exterior, and refusal to quit attitude.

Even her smart mouth made his balls tingle.

Fin challenged him in ways his other wives wouldn't dare. She didn't bow to his demands because she relied on him for her every want and need. Keeping _him_ happy was something she did because _she_ wanted too, not because she felt in any way obligated to do so.

She'd sooner tell him to go fuck himself before doing something because she felt compelled to do it.

 _Lucille used to tell me to go fuck myself when she got pissed off at me_.

Lucille also routinely called him out on his bullshit. If she had lived and they made it to the Sanctuary, she'd have questioned his decisions and challenged his orders. She always spoke her mind. Even when he didn't want to hear what it was she wanted to say. She wouldn't be any more afraid of him than Fin was. _She'd knock me on my ass if I tried to intimidate her into doing something I wanted_.

Same as Fin did the one time he tried to strong-arm her into doing what he wanted.

Lucille didn't need him to take care of her any more than Fin, either. _Well_ , he amended as his heart twisted with the never-gone grief or guilt he carried inside him. _She didn't need me to take care of her until she got sick._

And he let her down by being a rotten shit of a husband.

Screwin' around on her.

Lying to her.

Focusing on his own wants and needs.

Not doing right by her.

Leaving her to rot on a bloodstained floor.

That was just the start of the crimes he committed against his Lucille. There were dozens more he could think of if he put his mind to it. Things he couldn't ever make right because big daddy reaper came along to take her from him before got the chance to make amends for all his bullshit.

 _I'm not making the same mistakes with Fin_. _I'm not gonna do her as I did Lucille._

No, he was gonna do every fucking thing he could to see that hardheaded woman survive this shit world.

He'd start with locating her cute lil' ass.

 _And making her take shit easy as Carson told her she needed to start doing._

He turned to the man lurking in the doorway. If there was anyone who had an idea about where Fin might be, it was Fat Joey. The sorry shit tended to follow her around like a lovesick puppy.

"Where the fuck is she?"

"I, uh, don't know, Boss." Fat Joey scratched the back of his neck and sent a bewildered look at the empty bed. "I haven't seen Fin." He shifted his gaze back to him. "Not since earlier. When she was, uh, waiting for you in the hallway."

 _So_ , he thought, fingers curling into his palms. _She's gone and pulled her disappearing in the wind bullshit_.

Not like it was that much of a surprise.

He was almost positive the woman was related to Harry fucking Houdini. Tie her ass up and toss her in an old-style money vault and she'd be waiting behind him almost before the tumbler finished spinning.

"You didn't see her leave the bedroom after Carson and I left?"

"No." Fat Joey shook his head. "She was, uh, still here when I brought Lucille back. She's the one who put her on her pillows."

Negan gave a slow nod as he searched the room for some clue about where Fin might have gone. There was nothing openly obvious. _Why did I expect there would be any clues about where she is?_ The other thing the woman was good at doing was covering up her tracks.

"And then?"

"And then?" Confusion flickered across Fat Joey's round face. "What do you mean, Boss?"

"And what did she do after she put Lucille on her pillows?"

"Uh, she asked me to take Jordan to see Amber and her mom." A small, childlike grin tugged at Joey's lips. "They're gonna watch those Looney Toons tapes I found when I was out setting charges a few days ago."

Negan didn't really give a shit about what they were gonna watch. The only part that mattered was that Fin wasn't there with them. That left only one other place she might be. _And her cute lil' ass better not be down there._

"Go check on that hunter fuck," he ordered brusquely. "Make sure her royal highness hasn't let the asshole out of his cage."

"You mean the hunter?"

Negan kept telling himself that Fat Joey was useful. He kept the herd at bay. He just needed a cattleprod up the ass sometimes.

"Yes, I mean the fucking hunter."

"Oh, uh, I thought so," Fat Joey said. "Well, uh, Dwight's with the hunter now, actually."

"And?"

"And I, uh, just saw 'em." He shook his head. "Fin wasn't with 'em."

Negan's jaw clenched. _She better not have left the fucking Sanctuary after I expressly told her not too_.

Again, that voice came to him. 'And that's exactly why she would leave the Sanctuary. Because you told her not too.'

 _Fucking fuckity fuck_...

He had a goddamn good idea about where she took her ass off, too.

"Go find me that Harper fuck she hangs around with it."

"Sure thing, Boss."

He watched Fat Joey lumber away through narrowed eyes.

 _She better not have gone to see Prick_... he thought as he made his way over to a chair to wait. _There will be hell to pay if she has._

Rules were rules for a reason. Prick broke them when he chose to attack his people. When he chose to murder his men asleep in their beds. When his actions could have cost him the only thing in this fucking fucked up world that mattered.

 _Five fucking minutes,_ he realized as he sank into the chair. _If she stuck around that satellite depot five fucking minutes longer_...

He didn't bother finishing that thought.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week(s) have been good to you!

Please, if you like this story, follow/favorite it!


	18. Eighteen

Daryl jolted awake when he heard something or someone moving around outside the small supply room serving as his jail cell. He glanced at the door but could barely make out its outline. Something slid beneath the door and bounced against the knuckles of his right hand. He moved his fingers and met something small, smooth. Like a playing card.

He held it to the faint light creeping beneath the door. A joker with a bone-white face, a toothy grin, and short green hair stared back at him. Across the front of the card was one word written three times in red: _HA_.

 _Who'n hell is this_? He wondered as he stared at the card.

"Hello, hello, my little friend…" an unfamiliar voice whispered, startling him. "Soon, soon, all your misery will come to a glorious end!"

Then there was a snort of laughter that turned into a giggle. Eventually, it became a chuckle that echoed for a long time after whoever moved on. Who the cacklin' sumbitch was and why he gave him some playing card with the word _HA_ written on it over and over tumbled around inside his head.

It meant somethin'. He knew it did. _Mule said somethin' 'bout cards like these. Said they were the callin' card of some clown she dealt with back home._ A frown puckered his brow as he turned the card over. _What'n hell name she call his ass by_?

Boots in the hall outside his cell interrupted his musings. His gut clenched as he imagined the laughing man coming back to fulfill his promise. His body tensed, muscles bunching into one tight ball of expectation. _Ain't going out without a fight_ …

He froze when another voice he didn't recognize rasped, "Why is he here?"

He didn't have a clue who the man was but he could tell the man was dangerous just by the tone of his voice.

 _Can't be as bad as that ball bat wielding sumbitch_. Nobody could be as bad as Negan. A hollow thump, like the one a watermelon made when it got cracked open disturbed the silence. A tangy, coppery aroma he wouldn't know how to forget if he tried filled his nostrils. What happened to Glenn and Abraham was his fault. He was to blame for their deaths. Had he not been a selfish shit...

Guilt pooled in his belly; burned beneath his skin. Something stirred to life within him. He had no idea what it was, just that it was connected to what happened to his family. The pressure built the longer he sat there, bubbling just beneath the grief and shock.

The stress of everything intermingled with the rampant emotions flowing through him until he thought he would tear at the seams. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he had to… _had to_ keep himself in check. Rick and the others were still counting on him. Mule needed him. He couldn't do anything that would 'cause Negan to send him to whatever hell Merle was frequenting.

After what felt like several minutes where nothing happened, Daryl started to think the man, as well as whoever he had spoken too, had gone. He was about to settle back down when the man rasped, "Why is the bastard here in the Sanctuary and not at the Foundry." Another pause. "Exactly as I ordered?"

Chills danced along Daryl's spine, tingled in his gut. _Who the hell is this asshole_? he wondered. _And what'n hell does he want with me?_

It wasn't like he was anybody special. He was just some redneck asshole who made the mistake of pissing off an even bigger asshole. Somebody moved in front of the door and blocked out the light. Anticipation shivered along his naked flesh. Any second and that door would open. He didn't know who was on the other side.

He prepared himself for the worst.

"Negan said the bloke owed him for murderin' some of his men." There was a rustling of cloth, a creaking of leather. "Figured keepin' the bastard happy was my main priority."

Daryl didn't recognize the second speaker any more than he did the first. Each spoke with some sorta foreign accent. Most he could tell was that neither was from the United States. _Second asshole kinda sounds like that shitface tweaker Merle was supplyin' with pills a couple of years ago_.

That hophead had been from Melbourne or Sydney or someplace like that. He always thought the shithead sounded like he had an entire bag of cotton balls or something shoved in his mouth or something.

"I don't care what Negan says the man owes him. When I give an order..." Leather again creaked. "I expect you to follow it. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, Boss."

 _Boss_? One eyebrow winged up at that. Who the hell is this prick? And what exactly is he the boss of?

"Has there been any attempt to rescue the hunter?"

"No."

"There has been no attempt to rescue him?"

There was a hint of surprise in that gruff tone. As if nobody comin' to rescue his ass was that big a shock.

"None."

A faint hum had goosebumps popping up all over Daryl's body. "Now that is interesting," the man murmured. "That's very, very interesting, in fact."

"Why's that so interestin'?" Something wet splashed upon the tile. "Fenix has always been an unpredictable one. She's like Batman in that regard. You never know what they'll do." A pause had the balls in Daryl's stomach doing the hokey-pokey. "Or when they'll show up."

"She is as unpredictable as Batman." Daryl could almost imagine the man nodding his head. "But I still expected her or one of her family members to make at least one rescue attempt. That she hasn't means she's protecting someone else."

There was movement and then the light was back, indicating that the second man had stepped away from the door.

"Maybe she doesn't care for the hunter as much as you think."

"Oh, no," the first man purred. "That bastard is definitely someone she cares deeply about."

"How do you know she actually cares for the bloke?" Clothing again rustled. "Seems like if she did that she would have made some sorta attempt to have rescued him from Negan."

Daryl knew the reason Mule hadn't tried to rescue his sorry ass. He made sure to tell that Harper fella before he got stripped and tossed in here that he was to tell the fool woman not to save his ass. _Told him to tell her to focus on keepin' Rick and the others safe_ , he told the men outside. _That's why she ain't tried to rescue my ass._

"I have seen the hunter. I know she holds him dear to her heart. She will release him eventually."

"Bastard just looks like some dirty outback shithead to me." The words didn't even hurt. He got called much worse while growing up. "Don't seem like there would be any sorta appeal for a woman like her. Not with as much class as she got."

"You have never met her brother." The words caused his ass to itch. "If you had, you would understand just why this man is so important to her."

A tingle started at the base of Daryl's neck and traveled the length of his spine at those words. Something about Mule's brother sparked something inside his brain. A memory teetered just below the surface but this time he couldn't shake the damn thing loose.

"I've run into Red Robin and Robin," the second man sneered. "Even met that boy of hers a time or two. This bloke ain't nothing like any of 'em."

"He is very much like the Red Hood, though."

Mule had called someone by that name. Said he was her partner. When he pushed for more information, she admitted he was also her brother. _What'n hell she say his name is_?

He let his mind wander as he tried to recall when and where she said it. It was while they were hunkered down in her house. He had been cleaning his crossbow when she said something about him being just like her brother. Which brother was it? That was the question. She had two. Both younger. His brow puckered as he tried to recall their names.

One was Timothy. He recalled that one because there had been warmth and amusement in her voice when she talked about him. However, that wasn't who she was talking about him being like. No, she specifically mentioned her other brother. The one who tended to feel like an outsider.

 _Jason_. The name popped into his mind faster than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. She told him he was like her younger brother, Jason. _Said I was an older, harder, stubborn, moodier, and mouthier version of her younger brother, Jason_.

Was the pot calling the kettle black in his mind. Mule was a prissy little shit when she set her mind to it. _It's why Merle nicknamed her Miss Priss in the first damn place_.

Who the man out in the hall was and how he knew Mule was his sole focus. Something told him the answer to that question was lurking somewhere beneath all the bullshit swirling around in his damn fool head.

Not that it mattered none. Whoever the man was, there was one thing that he wasn't gonna do. Sumbitch ain't gonna get his hands on Mule. _I'll find a way to kill the asshole, first_.

That or he'd sure as shit die tryin'.

…

"I know Fenix." That dark baritone rippled along her flesh, chilling her. It was a voice designed to command respect and loyalty from those in his service as much as it was one that could bring on waves of mind-numbing fear for those who didn't. "I have seen the hunter. I know why she holds him so dear. She will come for him eventually."

"Bastard just looks like some dirty outback shithead to me," the other man said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Don't seem like there would be any sorta appeal for a woman like her. Not with as much class as she got."

"You have never met her brother." The words were as dark and menacing as the man who spoke them. "If you had, you would understand just why this man would be so important to her."

"I've run into Red Robin and Robin. I've even met that boy of hers a time or two. This bloke ain't nothing like 'em."

"He is very much like Red Hood, though."

The speakers, two men, stood outside the cell that Negan ordered Daryl locked in. Sherry watched from the opposite end of the long, dark hallway, fingers curled into the corner of the wall, and with a kernel of trepidation doing flip-flops in her belly.

A burning type of silence fell all around her. Even the things in the yard were silent for a change. Only the heated conversation going on between the two disturbed the relative peace and tranquility. Nobody else was out and about at this early hour. Most of the Sanctuary's inhabitants were all tucked away in their beds and dreaming the dreams of the hopeful.

She wouldn't be about if not that something - a strange, nagging sort of sensation - woke her and told her she needed to check Daryl. She snuck out of the room she shared with Negan's other wives just as the first streaks of color spread across the sky. _And I got here at just the right time_ , she thought as she studied the men through narrowed eyes.

She paid special attention to the black and orange body armor they wore as well as to how many weapons they carried in the various pouches and holsters their suits had built into them. The smaller man was Liam.

She had spoken to him once when he was here to deliver a message to Negan. He was originally from Melbourne, Australia, worked as a member of their intelligence agency until right before this shit started taking over the world and he signed on to work for a man he called _Deathstroke_.

 _Is that him_? she wondered as she studied the taller of the two. _Is he Deathstroke_?

Something told her it was. Sherry took careful note of his appearance, telling herself that the more details she could recall, the better. _Everything I remember about him helps Fin._

His dark hair and lean build reminded her of Negan's. However, this man's profile was far from the ruggedly attractive one Negan possessed. His hair was damp from the light rain that had fallen and there were small patches of silver at his temples and in his thick goatee that seemed to wink at her whenever the light hit it.

His nose was straight, the nostrils slightly flared, his face smooth except for a few faint lines at the corners of his eyes - _well, eye_ , she corrected when he turned his head and she spied the patch covering the other. His mouth curved into a smile that was arrogantly sensual.

He hadn't shaved, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw and over those angular cheeks turned what was already an attractive face into something edgy, sexy, strong.

It was the look in that one eye that threatened to suck her into the deep, dark web surrounding him. That eye overflowed with a restless intensity, with an emptiness she recognized as loneliness, and burned with a hunger that left her belly quivering and her pulse kicking like a mule.

It was, she knew, a purely instinctive and biological response. Just because she traded her soul when she became one of Negan's wives didn't mean she didn't know desire when she felt it. No, she didn't respond to it - that would have been beyond disastrous - but she did not bother fighting it. The ability to feel anything after the shit this world had done was a miracle.

 _D told Daryl that day in the forest that people trade everything until they got nothing left except existing. I don't want to live like that. I don't want to just exist. And I'm tired of trading away everything for safety, for knowing that I and D are safe_.

This wasn't the life they planned. D had told her things were gonna be better after Negan joined their group. They were gonna be okay. She would see. She had known things were gonna go bad and quick. Negan's torment was the type of sorrow and anger that only grief could cause.

Who hadn't lost someone, though? Nobody was safe from whatever the hell it was turning people into monsters.

However, this man's demons were much different from Negan's. He didn't carry around a baseball bat named for his dead wife. And he didn't need to swagger to look intimidating. No, a sorta animal magnetism rolled off this man with every move he made. Everything about this tall, dark and sinfully handsome stranger screamed danger.

"What'n hell are you doing here?"

Sherry jumped at hearing D's voice. Beneath the momentary flash of surprise, however, lurked a warning about snooping around the Sanctuary. People who stuck their noses where they didn't belong always ended up getting them cut off.

"Honey? What'n hell you doing down here?"

Sherry slowly turned to Dwight, saw the slight hint of suspicion darkening his eyes and knew she needed to give him a very good reason for why she was in this hallway. The only explanation she could think to give him was the truth.

"I had a bad feeling wake me up."

One brow lifted. "What sorta bad feeling?"

"Like something was wrong and I needed to come and check Daryl." She nodded towards the two men standing outside the blue-gray door. "Seems I was right 'cause they sure don't look friendly, D."

"They ain't friendly," he told her in hushed tones. "That one-eyed sumbitch is the one been supplyin' Negan with weapons and shit."

She leaned towards D and confided in a whisper, "I think he means to take Daryl back with him."

Dwight scoffed at that. "Negan ain't gonna let him do that."

"Who says he's gonna ask him?"

That stopped Dwight from saying whatever he was about to say. He looked at her, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.

"You think he gonna kill Negan to take Daryl?"

"Not kill him, no."

"Then what?"

"I think he's gonna use him to draw out that woman he's been wanting to find."

Dwight chewed on that for a minute.

"There ain't been no sign of this Fenix since she captured that prick, Askalov."

"That's 'cause she's been here in the Sanctuary since then." Sherry only felt a momentary remorse for betraying what was told her in confidence. "Who do you think Fin is, D? She's Fenix."

" _Fin_ is Fenix?"

"She is." Sherry nodded. "Yes."

Dwight stared at her with an incredulous look on his face for several seconds. Finally, he recovered enough to ask, "How'n hell you know she's Fenix?"

"She told me." Again, there was a momentary pang. Sherry soothed her conscience by telling it that it was either trust D and enlist his help or see Fin get outed and hurt. "After I agreed to become Negan's wife she came to me. Offered to send me and you to her group, the Sirens."

"The Sirens? Ain't they the ones who been hitting our supply trucks?"

"She always gives the supplies back."

 _Most of 'em anyway_ , she added silently.

"Negan ain't gonna like it, still." He pulled her down a set of stairs when the men's voices drew close to their hiding spot. "He ain't gonna like it, one bit."

"He gonna like being forced to turn her over even less," she pointed out. "She's his. And you know how he is when it comes to what's his."

"He gonna have a shit fit is what he gonna do." Dwight closed his eyes. More a long blink than anything. "And try to start shit with the sumbitch that is gonna end up gettin' lotta folks killed."

"That's why you need to get to Fin and tell her that this fella she been trying to avoid is here in the Sanctuary."

"Me?" Both eyebrows shot up. "Why me? Why can't you do it?"

"'Cause I need to go and tell the others who work with her that he's here." At his questioning look, she explained. "They gotta disappear so that he don't figure out she's here."

"She's got Sirens inside the Saviors?"

Sherry almost smiled. If not for the seriousness of the situation she might have teased him about how easy it was for wives to sneak things right under their husband's noses. _Like when I surprised you with that big ole dog for your birthday._

"D, she has Sirens in all his depots and supply houses."

D mulled that over silently.

"She been playing a game of chess with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said. "In chess, the Queen can take a lone King on her own if the player sets up the move just right." His brow furrowed. "Otherwise, she gotta work with a pawn or another King to force the King into a checkmate."

"Who says she been playing this game of chess against Negan?"

Dwight looked at her, his gaze pensive.

"You think she's planning to use him to force this prick into surrender?"

"She's his Queen," she reminded him. "And what have you always told me about the role of the Queen in chess?"

"She's the most powerful piece 'cause she makes the most moves and does everything necessary to protect the only piece on the board that matters to her: her King."

"And who protects the Queen?"

"The rest of the pieces on the board."

"And who are those pieces?"

"Us." He sighed as he glanced over his shoulder. "A'ight, look, I'll go and warn Fin about this asshole being here. You go back to the room you stayin' in with Negan's other wives. Don't say nothin' to nobody about any of this."

"Fin isn't here," she told him. "She left with Harper for Alexandria awhile ago."

"I'll go to Alexandria then and tell her to stay away until this asshole leaves."

"Just be careful, D."

He looked like he was gonna say something but finally just nodded before he headed down the stairs. Sherry watched him go, her heart heavy with the guilt weighing on her soul.

 _I'm sorry, D,_ she said silently. _I did what I did because I didn't want you to die. Now you've become everything you didn't want to be, and it's all my fault. I'm gonna make it right, though. Somehow. I'm gonna make it right. I promise._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	19. Nineteen

"Care to explain why you're sneaking around my Sanctuary?"

Negan posed the question a full twenty minutes after answering Slade's summons. Slade ignored his question. His attention was firmly fixed on one thing: getting answers.

"Why is the hunter here at your Sanctuary?"

It was the second time he asked him that. The first had been while he and the smarmy-mouthed bastard were standing outside the room the hunter was being kept in.

Negan had yet to supply him with a satisfactory answer. His lack of compliance did not sit well with Slade. The man was entirely too bold and brash. _It's time he learned his place_.

"He's here because he owes me for having killed my men."

"I thought I told you I wanted the sheriff, his boy, and the hunter brought to me."

The room fell into a tense silence as Negan, reclining in an overstuffed armchair, his hand curled around the smooth end of a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, stared up at him.

"So, here I am, being friendly as a fucking fuck on a fuck free day while you're playing the part of the uptight guy at a dick-sucking contest." He indicated the chair behind Slade with a slight nod of his head. "You wanna sit the fuck down?" A small, tight grin played about the bastard's mouth. "Or you wanna flip a coin to see which of us is gonna give the other head first?"

Anger at Negan's crass insolence threatened to erupt from Slade but he tamped it down and took the indicated seat.

"This better?"

"Much fucking better." Negan sat back in his chair. "Now, what were you asking?"

"Why is the hunter here at your Sanctuary and not been delivered to me at the Foundry?"

"Because he is here," was Negan's cool reply. "The sorry shit was brought to me a few hours ago."

"And should have been instantly delivered to me when you realized who he is."

"I didn't see any fucking need to wrap his ass up and deliver him to you."

Slade's fingers curled around the arm of his chair until the knuckles cracked from the pressure. It was the only thing keeping him from launching across the short distance and grabbing Negan by the throat.

"I have repeatedly told you that I want the sheriff, his boy, and the hunter brought to me if and when they're found."

"You also said you wanted the fucking fucks brought to you unharmed. Or have you forgotten about that particular part of your request?"

"No, I have not forgotten about that part of my request." Slade breathed deeply – once, twice, three times – and refocused on why it was he was there. To get his daughter from the woman who was holding her. "Them being in perfect health is not my main concern or priority. Having them delivered to me is all I cared about." He regarded Negan with as much calm as he could manage at that time. Which wasn't much. "Exactly what part of that was not clear enough for you to understand?"

"Oh, I under-fucking-stood all of it," Negan assured him as he took a steaming mug from a heavyset man who managed to materialize from out of nowhere. "I understood every goddamn word you said."

Slade declined the cup offered to him with a wave of his hand. The liquid steaming in that chipped mug might have passed for coffee by a man of Negan's standards, but it was little better than pisswater by Slade's. A hesitant look twisted the man's flabby face. He glanced over at his boss with a quizzical frown. Negan indicated for him to leave with a nod of his head. The man didn't hesitate to beat it.

"Then if you understood what exactly it was that I had requested..." Slade paused for dramatic effect. "Why is it then that I do not have the sheriff, his boy or the hunter in my possession?"

"Well, excuse the fucking fuckity fuck outta me." Negan set his mug of coffee on the arm of his chair and crossed his feet at the ankles. "I coulda fucking swore that this here partnership between us operated under a scratch your back, you scratch mine sorta deal. Had I known you were gonna give me the ole reach around..." He sent Slade a lopsided grin. "I'da had you buy me breakfast, first."

Rage bubbled beneath Slade's skin at Negan's impudence. The bastard needed to start minding his tone and his manners. Not that he would. Most men pissed themselves when they found themselves the recipients of his undivided attention. This man? Didn't even flinch. If not for his present annoyance with the slippery-tongued bastard, he might have found himself impressed.

There was ice in Negan's veins. There was a keen intellect and cunningness in the depths of his dark eyes a man like him could appreciate. With the right amount of training, the man could make a formidable mercenary. Slade felt a momentary interest chip away at his vexation.

Molding Negan into his image, shaping all that untapped potential into something that would truly strike terror into the hearts of those who crossed his path appealed to him. Training Negan as he trained Oliver Queen would give him a break from the tedium. It'd give him an outlet for the pent-up frustration always simmering just below the surface.

He decided his first lesson would be reminding Negan about who it was that he worked for.

"Our partnership is one where you give me whatever I ask you for." A muscle tick in Negan's jaw was his only outward reaction to those words. "And what I asked for was the hunter, boy, and sheriff delivered to me at my Foundry as soon as they were located." He dropped his voice an octave. "And I strongly suggest that you give me a plausible reason for why that was not done."

"Now, you see, that's where you are mistaken." Negan unfolded himself from his slouch and leaned forward. Subtly intimidating and openly threatening. Had Slade been any other sort of man, he might have found himself shivering at the cold rage on his whiskered face. "One. I'm not your bitch. I won't roll over and beg when you snap your fingers. Two. The hunter is here because he fucking well owes me for the shit he and his people pulled." A slight smile curled the ends of his lips. "I like the fucking fuck. He's got balls of steel." He sat back and crossed his legs at the ankles once more. "So, I'm keeping him."

Slade's fingers itched to curl themselves around the man's throat and squeeze until his eyes popped out of their sockets. He banked the urge, swallowed his rage and did his best to stay focused on his agenda.

"And the sheriff? His boy?"

"If they were traveling with that hunter fuck then they're mine, too." A small smile accompanied those words. "They are now in service to me."

"This…"

"…is the new fucking world order." Negan's face went hard as stone. "And I am the goddamn King of it. You don't mess with the new world order. And you sure as shit do not cross me." He reached over and stroked the end of a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. "You under-fucking-stand me?"

Oh, Slade understood exactly what the man was saying. He knew what would happen to anyone foolish enough to cross Negan. It was the same thing that happened when anyone crossed _him_. Slade lifted his head, intending to tell the man who, but the second their eyes met, there was a clash.

Slade almost swore he heard it in his head. The sound two swords made when struck against each other in battle. The man had balls. Slade had to give him that much. There were not many who would speak to him in such a coarse and blunt way as Negan. Even fewer existed who would think to issue him such a blatant warning. The few who had quickly met their maker.

Ah, but fear wasn't a luxury this man could afford. Not in a world rife with death and corruption. Only the strong were going to survive this cold and hard world they lived in. Something Negan knew and understood. He ruled his Sanctuary with an iron-fist and a clearly established set of rules. Slade couldn't say he approved of everything Negan did, but he couldn't deny the man's ruthless ways were not effective.

Rules maintained order. They kept people alive. Nothing mattered if you and everyone around you were dead. Negan ensured his, as well as everyone else's survival by making clear what the consequences would be for those who broke his rules. Or threatened his established order. He would need to make nice with the bastard if he wanted to convince the man to release the hunter to him.

"You have made yourself perfectly clear."

"Good," Negan said with a slight nod. "Then shall we discuss business?"

"The hunter was brought here to your Sanctuary while the sheriff and his son, I presume, were returned to their home." One dark brow lifted. "What is the logic behind that decision?"

"There was no logic involved. The hunter was brought to me by one of my men."

"One of your men?" At his nod, Slade asked, "Who?"

"Fuck calls himself Harper."

 _Harper._ _As in Roy Harper. Close associate and ally of Oliver Queen_. This news was indeed promising. The tidbit would cost him an extra case of munitions and medical supplies. Things that Slade knew the people living in this converted factory needed for their survival. He counted the price worth it for this bit of information.

"Has Fenix been seen in the last few days?"

"Oh, she came out of her little hidey-hole to fucking fuck with my men and steal my goddamn supplies a week ago." Negan's lips spread into a smile. "Gotta admit that my balls tingle whenever she shows up to fuck with my men and steal my shit. Especially since she always gives it fucking back."

"Her morality is ingrained in her," Slade replied. "It is as much a part of her as the man who trained her."

"You have no fucking idea how much I like this woman. See, I've met a lot of attractive women in my day, and I've screwed a whole bunch of 'em. I go for all kinds . . . And I do mean _all_ kinds. But this badass chick thing this Fenix has got going on. . . shit . . . it's really fucking working for me."

Slade ignored his innuendo.

"Has Fenix surfaced anywhere else?"

He kept his manner and tone nonchalant. As if the information wasn't of the greatest importance.

"This morning." Negan lifted his cup to his mouth. Took a long swallow of the rapidly cooling brew. "She beat the absolute shit out of some of my men as they were going to pay the fine fucks at Hilltop a little visit."

Hilltop was where the man Fenix saved as a boy from that demented clown resided. This news sounded even more promising. Raya was leaving herself vulnerable to discovery. _And capture._ There was just one small bit of doubt plaguing him.

"Are you sure it was Fenix and not my daughter posing as her?"

It had not pleased him to learn Rose had taken to dressing as Fenix in recent months. It was done for the same purpose as Grayson or one of the other brats filling in whenever Wayne was indisposed. It made sure people knew they were out there and watching.

"That's for you to find out." Negan lowered his mug. "My job is to tell you when and where she was last seen."

"How do you know it was Fenix then?" One brow winged up. "What makes you certain it was Fenix and not my daughter."

"She had a man with her that one of my men overheard her call," a pause. " _Red Blunder_."

Feral joy sprang to life inside Slade at hearing that particular nickname. If Red Robin had been at the Hilltop, it meant Raya had been there, as well.

"So, Red Robin was there with Fenix," he rumbled. "Well, now, that's very interesting." A smile, a real one, graced his lips for the first time in months. "And this was outside the Hilltop community?"

"It sure as shit was."

Her other sightings had been outside the Kingdom. Who she was protecting there, Slade had no idea. And he did not care. Whoever was at the Kingdom was not important. No, only the sheriff, his boy, and the hunter were what mattered. They were who she was going to protect with every fiber of her being. He unfolded his long body and got up to slowly pace the small area behind his armchair.

"So, if the sheriff and his boy are anywhere," he mused, "it's either in this Hilltop community or the one you most recently acquired."

"Your Fenix also beat the shit outta them fucks Luthor sent after they fucking threatened the future little serial killer in the making."

"And you assume that the boy is the one I am looking for."

"Why, yes, I do. And…" His tone now was smug. "I sure as shit am right, now, aren't I?"

Slade glanced at him from over one shoulder. His _temporary_ partner lounged in his chair, perfectly at ease in his surroundings, and seemingly confident in his safety. _And why shouldn't he be_? Slade thought bitterly.

Negan's converted factory was the height of luxury in this post-apocalyptic era. Even the fancy high-rise apartment buildings found in the ritzy uptown neighborhoods of cities like Gotham, Metropolis and Star City failed to offer the comforts this former mill did.

Outside, the building was surrounded by a wall of infected stuck on poles and spears dug into the ground and affixed to concrete cinder blocks.

Inside, the surfaces were hard, the edges sharp, cold. Colors were mixed - ivory, charcoal, and taupe.

Disinfectant perfumed the air and told Slade louder than words that Negan expected his compound be kept clean, his clothes laundered and his people compliant. However, the books stacked in neat rows on the shelves lining the wall behind the armchairs revealed a man with an eclectic, and yet, sophisticated taste.

Negan appeared a boorish and brutish clod, but there were a keen intellect and sharp wit lurking beneath that veneer of the laid-back bully. The man was an anomaly. A very dangerous and unpredictable one. His taut posture suggested he was agitated about... _something_. And with a man who was as prone to bouts of physical mayhem and violence as Negan was? That was never a good thing.

"Shit, ain't gonna lie," he said before Slade could say anything. "I got hornier than a three-peckered billy-goat when I heard about that shit." His grin stretched from ear-to-ear. "Wouldn't mind a threesome with this Fenix and Lucille. Have a feeling it would be an experience none of us would forget."

The serpent alive inside of him hissed as it tortured him with images of Negan running his hands, his lips over Raya's small, tight body. Short flashes soon became full-bodied visions of her beneath the bastard, moving under him, against him. Damp skin, like sun-kissed gold, slid over ivory. Eyes nearly black with desire widened, and swollen lips, parted.

He could hear the sound of her breath, the catch, and release, the soft gasps, the slight whimpers. He could almost smell her, that haunting scent of jasmine that always made him think of forbidden dances and hot Australian nights. It was almost more than he could stand.

Wasn't Oliver Queen stealing away the affections of one woman he cared for enough? Was he to lose another to a man who routinely flaunted how he screwed multiple women because he saw no point in being faithful to one?

Well, he couldn't have her.

He'd see the bastard dead, first.

"Don't you dare touch her." His body coiled, primed to leap across the short distance separating he and Negan. "You keep your hands off her. You understand me?"

Negan's eyes glinted with a warning that Slade ignored. Though the man would fight valiantly, his brute force would be no match for his decades of experience and skill level. Even Oliver Queen struggled to beat him in hand-to-hand combat.

"Well." All humor fled Negan's voice. "Then I guess we need to negotiate a trade here, don't we?"

"A trade?"

"The hunter for your Fenix."

"No."

"Now, see, I think you need to understand something here." Negan hefted the bat resting against his chair. "If it had been anybody else who pulled that shit, they would get an introduction to Lucille here."

Slade took a step forward and dropped his voice an octave.

"You introduce Fenix to that bat of yours and—"

"I don't enjoy hurting women," Negan coldly cut in. "Just want to make that shit clear from the get-go. I don't like it one goddamn bit. I don't allow that fucking fucked up shit here. The fact is, though, she injured my men. A whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with. I'm thinking a fair trade would be her agreeing to become one of my wives. Normally, when I choose a wife, the process is completely voluntary. It's an honor to be with me. Women no longer have to earn points to trade for goods and services. However, in this case..."

"She will not become one of your wives." His rage building, Slade took another step towards the bat-wielding bastard. "You understand me? She will not become one of your wives."

"All right, listen. It's an emotional moment, I get it. The facts are fucking clear, though. She attacked my goddamn men. And I do not appreciate her doing that. Those people work for me. They provide for me and every asshole here. They can't do that if they're laid up in the goddamn infirmary with broken bones and all, now, can they? I'm not growing a garden here. I need my people to work. I need my men to keep an eye on things for me."

"Then what do you propose as a satisfactory solution to this problem? Because her becoming one of your wives will never happen. Do you understand me?"

The corner of Negan's lips quirked upwards.

"The hunter..." A plethora of thoughts lurked behind Negan's dark eyes. What the man was thinking was anybody's guess. Slade just wished he would state what he wanted. Negan seemed to sense his impatience for he smiled before saying, his voice like velvet, " _Daryl,_ stays the fuck here and works her goddamn debt off for her."

Slade's wanted nothing more than to launch himself at the bastard and wipe the smug smirk off his face. He banked that urge, ordered himself to exercise patience, to remember exactly why he forged a partnership with Negan in the first place.

Raya had done an admirable job of keeping a low profile. For three years, she kept herself and his daughter safely out of his reach. She finally made a mistake when she lost her earring. She revealed where she was and who she was with.

He just didn't know what incarnation of herself she was using. To that end, he needed Negan. He needed him to spook her out into the open. Then he could grab her. Once he had her in his grasp, he would no longer need Negan.

Disposing of the man would be his greatest joy.

"Done," he said as he reached into his pocket to extract the earring Don had given him. He tossed it to Negan who glanced at it after catching it. His expression was more affably curious than it was anything else. "Give her earring to the bastard as a reminder for why he is here and serving as your dog."

He turned then and stalked from the room.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	20. Twenty

Negan watched Slade stalk from his office with a smile. The one-eyed bastard was seeing red. Not that he gave a shit. Slade Wilson needed to learn that he did _not_ own him. The one-eyed sheep fucker wasn't gonna use him like a hooker in a dark alley. No fucking way.

 _Well_ , he amended as his mind drifted into thoughts about the woman currently missing. _I'll gladly let your cute lil' ass use me until I'm_ _shooting fucking dust._ Part of him wished Fin were there. Having her perched on his lap while he told Slade where he could go and how he could get there would just be the icing on the cake.

"My patience has run out, Negan," Slade announced without turning. "I will be back in three days with the weapons and medicine you demand as part of our agreement. I suggest you have an answer about where my daughter is being kept or that you have the sheriff, his boy or her mother here when I return."

The threat of what would happen should he not do as ordered hung on him like a cheap suit. Negan didn't let it ruffle his feathers. Why should he? It was just the prick's way of re-establishing how he was the alpha male in their relationship. Well, he'd simply remind the prick about how mistaken he was about that shit.

"Hey," he called out as he settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "I've got a big fucking package here between my legs with your name on it."

Slade visibly stiffened. Negan could tell by the looks the three assholes who came with him all shot at each other that this was clearly an uncommon occurrence. Nobody spoke to their boss like that. Well, he wasn't a nobody and all the shit — the swords, guns, and other stuff crammed into the pockets — Slade carried in that fancy ass fucking outfit he wore didn't mean fucking shit to him.

To the one-eyed bastard's credit, however, he didn't lose his shit. Nope, the asshole merely stood there, his back ramrod straight, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. Negan could well imagine how much he would love to use those fists on him. And he knew that Slade knew that he knew he wanted to use those fists on him. _Fucking sucks, don't it, asshole?_

"You wanna spank me, don'chu? Heh, you'll have a whole different sorta hot load on your hands if you do it right."

The men out in the hall shuffled back and forth as his taunt echoed throughout the small office. He heard their nervous whispers to each other, saw them cast fearful glances at the man they served. Negan felt an immense satisfaction at being the direct cause of their uneasy states. It was what they fucking deserved for coming into his castle, making demands of his men, and acting like they were King Shits.

 _Only one man around this castle who can order my men around, you sorry shits_ , he told them as he waited for Slade to reply. _And I have just let you know who that man is._

"I advise that you do not continue to test me further," Slade warned in a low, dark tone. "I guarantee that you will not like having me as an enemy."

"That so?" Negan snorted a laugh. "Well, I am abso-fucking-lutely positive that I've got more wood than you can handle."

A scowl was sent over one shoulder. Negan merely winked at him and enjoyed when that eye narrowed into a thin slit. _Who the fuck says pissing off people ain't a whole shitload of fun_? The only thing that'd be more fun to him at that moment was cornering Fin's cute lil' ass and kissing her until they both saw stars.

"I assure you that those who've crossed me have found they do not live very long."

It was a battle of wills. A test of might. Two alpha males competing for dominance. He knew it, Slade knew it, all the fuckers standing out in the hall and listening to their exchange knew it. Negan's fingers curled around Lucille, drawing cool, calming comfort from the feel of her against his fingers. So, the fucker still thought he could bend him over a table and ram it in without any lube? That was hilarious.

"Don't fucking think you're gonna empty your junk in my box and expect me to thank you for it."

"My daughter will be returned to me before this month is through or else there will be severe repercussions." Slade half-turned towards him. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Negan studied him through slightly narrowed eyes. There was a lotta shit he had done since this world went to hell. Some of it he was proud of and considered right for whatever the situation was. Some shit he accepted as being necessary to make sure he and all the people in service to him survived. Everything he had done had managed to keep more than seventy survivors alive after the end of the fucking world.

Prick and a handful of others might see what he had done as evil, but he'd counter that sick fucks like the Whisperers defined the word. He restored some semblance of civilization to the world and maintained it with a stringent set of rules. The alternative was chaos. Nobody would survive if that happened. Were there things he regretted and wished he could go back to undo? Abso-fucking-lutely.

He would never have screwed around on his Lucille for one.

He wouldn't have lied to her for another.

And he sure as shit wouldn't have left her to rot on that goddamn hospital room floor.

Despite everything he had said and done, there were three things he had never done and which he would never allow: rape, physical abuse of a woman or child and third, knowingly or willingly place a child in danger. Now, sure, he could see how some might call him a big fat fucking liar there. He _did_ order Prick to chop his boy's arm off. And Prick _did_ eventually mark where to cut.

He wasn't the one who put the little serial killer in the hot seat. Prick did when he brought the kid with him and the rest of his band of fucks. It was Prick who made his boy part of the situation by continuing to give him those fuck you eyes and tell him how he was gonna kill him and all his men. _Shit, it wasn't like I planned to have him cut the kid's goddamn arm off._

Fin'd have had his balls if he had gone through with that shit.

Hell, he would have chopped them off for her if Prick had gone through with it. He didn't enjoy hurting women or kids. Killing men? Well, he could do that shit all day, every day. He enjoyed it. Physically assaulting women or defenseless kids, though? That shit turned his stomach. He created rules to make sure that sorta shit didn't happen here at the Sanctuary or any of his other satellite depots. Any asshole caught breaking those rules didn't live long.

He held up the earring Slade tossed at him. The diamond and aquamarine stones gleamed in the thin beams of light poking through the glass overhead. A smile spread across his face as he fondly remembered the event where he had seen this earring. Fin had been wearing it, along with its mate the night her cute lil' ass seduced him. _And we sure as shit made some beautiful fucking music together that night_ , _didn't we, babydoll_?

He had suspected long before Slade gave him the earring that Fin and Fenix were the same. Any woman who could wade into a horde of infected with the confidence of an Amazon, easily smoke out a rapin', murderin' fuck or knock heads together without blinking was beyond an ordinary one. Sure, he had seen and met many women who could take care of themselves. Everyone had been forced to adapt. _Even Fin admits she had to change to deal with the bullshit this world tossed at her._

Not many of the women he knew possessed the necessary skills and abilities to make them a match for the one-eyed prick leveling demands and threats at him. No, those sorta skills and shit could only belong to someone who was specially trained and who operated in a role that required them to have such a set of skills and abilities. _The goddamn woman didn't act like Wonder Woman_ , he thought as he drank the rest of his tepid coffee. She pretty much _was_ Wonder Woman.

Normally, knowing someone was keeping such a huge ass secret from him would send him through the fucking roof. Wives he found screwing around on him, lying to him or doing other shit behind his back got a choice of either going back to earning points or getting kicked the fuck out. Fin wasn't like those wives. He never had to wonder if she would try to stick a knife between his ribs as he slept or put a lethal dose of rat poison in his favorite brand of whiskey.

Loyalty was a religion to Fin. She was more fanatical about it than most priests. One of the things he liked most about her was that she not only had a set of principles but stuck to them. She told him no and she fucking meant it. She wasn't keeping shit from him to feather her own little nest. No, what she was doing was protecting her chickadees from the fucking hawk trying to snatch them from the nest.

 _Not gonna happen_ , he decided. The one-eyed prick wasn't gonna get his hands on either Fin or her daughter. _Don't matter if he is or isn't the girl's father_ , he thought as he set the empty mug on the desk. _He ain't getting his goddamn hands on her._ Rules were rules. Even Fin had a set of them she abided by.

Even if her set of rules tended to conflict with his quite a lot.

Secrecy was her only true crime here. And it did not, he decided, accede all she had done for him and his people. He'd give her a chance to explain why she hadn't told him she was Fenix. _And has two kids_ , he thought, belly clenching. More than anything, he wanted to know why she hadn't trusted him with that information. _Doesn't she realize how much kids mean to me? Especially after we agreed to keep Jordan and raise his ass together_?

Briefly, he wondered if her children had her eyes.

He pushed aside those thoughts, along with the slight ache and bitterness. He'd let Fin explain her reasons to him. And once she finished explaining everything to his satisfaction, he would maneuver her cute lil' ass into bed and worship every inch of that delectable body until his sack was empty.

 _Yeah, darlin'_ , he said as he tucked the earring into a pocket of his jacket. _Looks like you've lost this lil' game of chess we've been playing. King takes Queen. You are now mine_. _And,_ he added as he turned his eyes on Slade, _you will remain mine._

No matter what the one-eyed dick had to say about it.

"Our deal was for information about Fenix," he reminded the sonuvabitch in a low, warning tone. "Not for me to fetch your daughter for you."

Not that he planned on doing either. No, sirree, he sure as shit had no plans what-so-fucking-ever to hand either Fin or her daughter over to this asshole. _Shit, he doesn't even call them by their names_ , he realized, fingers tightening upon Lucille. _It's always my daughter or her mother. As if they're fucking possessions and not people he loves._

"I'm amending our agreement."

"I suggest you get the fuck out before I lose my cool."

Slade pinned him with that one eye. Negan merely sent him an easy smile. Outwardly, he appeared cool as a cucumber. Inwardly, he resisted the urge to wipe that dark scowl off the bastard's face. Slade finally turned away after a few tense seconds, looking at the ugly fuck standing right outside the doorway.

"Gather some men and have them go to Hilltop," he ordered. "Tell them to keep an eye out for Red Robin. And," he added after a second pause, "for Robin, as well."

Fugly Fuck nodded. "Are they to engage them if they show up?"

"No, they are to watch only."

"Yes, Boss." The man went to leave but hesitated. "What about Fenix?"

"What about her?"

"Are they to try to capture her if she shows up?"

"No."

If the fugly looking mother fucker was surprised, it didn't show. Not that much could on skin that looked like a dog made a chew toy out of it.

"What are they to do if Fenix shows up?"

"You tell them not to do a goddamn thing if she shows up," Negan told McFugly. "Not unless they want to meet Lucille here."

"My men are not yours to command," Slade said without turning. "Do not issue orders to them again."

Negan replied by parroting Slade's earlier statement back at him.

"I'm amending our agreement."

"Are you now?" Slade glanced at him from over one shoulder. The warning in the bastard's eye was clear. Not that he gave a shit about it. "And what are you amending it, too?"

"If your fucking fucks are in my goddamn Sanctuary," he said. "They will work for points like the rest of my people. They will provide for me and for them. They will abide by my rules and accept the consequences of breaking those rules. And," he dropped his voice an octave, "they will answer to me when they're here. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Now…" He pointed at the exit with Lucille. "Get the fuck outta my Sanctuary."

He enjoyed seeing that eye glitter with stone cold anger and hate. A muscle ticked in the sonuvabitches jaw. His face went hard as stone. The fucker wanted to put a bullet in him. He knew it, Slade knew it, and everyone out in the hall knew it. He kept his cool, however.

He didn't have any choice but to stay calm. He needed him to flush Fenix out. He just didn't know that Negan had no plans whatsoever of doing that. _She's mine, asshole_ , he told him as he waited for Slade to leave. _You'll never lay so much as one goddamn finger on her. I guaran-fucking-tee it._

"You've heard what Negan said," Slade said to McFugly. "Tell the men that they are to listen to him when they are here."

"And?"

"And that they will work for him, providing goods and service for… _points_."

The last was said with a sneer. Clearly, Slade didn't like his points system. _Too fucking bad_ , he told him silently. _My castle, my rules_.

"Yes, Boss." A pause. "What are they to do if Fenix is seen?"

"They're to tell Negan when she was spotted. And where it was that she was seen." His eye narrowed. And his voice dropped to a low hiss. "And he will convince the leader of whatever community she frequents to hand her over to him."

"And if she doesn't fucking show up?"

 _Which she sure as shit isn't gonna be doing_ , he added silently. No, Fin's days of running around footloose and fancy fucking free were over. She had managed to coolly and logically refute each one of his other requests for her cute lil' ass to stay here as one of his wives, each time citing there was no need for her to stay with him when she had a perfectly safe place of her own to go, and people of her own who needed her.

Well, now there was every reason for her to yield to his wishes. This one-eyed bastard couldn't get his filthy hands on her if she was under his protection. He would take care of her, make sure she and her kids lived the sweet life, and never have to worry about jack shit ever again.

 _Yeah, you have finally run out of excuses, baby doll_ …

"Then you will hand over the sheriff and his boy to me." Slade turned away, but not before adding, "Or else we will come to blows."

The gravelly command had an underlying compulsion and was coated in the sort of authority that would make lesser men piss all over themselves. Negan heard it and was more amused than annoyed. There was only one way to handle that kinda challenge, he decided.

"Heh, I have a job for you..." he said with a huge grin. "And I can guarantee it blows."

Slade's reaction was priceless. Anger suffused his swarthy face and glittered in his eye. The best part? The shithead didn't offer a reply. He just stormed down the hall. A smirk twisted one corner of Negan's lips as he listened to the sound of Slade's footsteps fading into the distance. _Hot_ _diggity dog_ , he thought as he slumped down in his chair. _Could just about see the steam pouring outta the assholes goddamn ears_.

Everything about Slade Wilson, from the clenching and unclenching of his fists, the slight flaring of his nostrils, and the way he kept glaring at him all screamed at how much the one-eyed dick fucking bastard wanting to tear his goddamn head off and piss down his throat. He didn't because he knew that he didn't have the winning hand that he thought he did.

 _Wow,_ he thought, chuckling softly. _What a piece of shit. Orderin' my ass around as if I'm his bitch_. He shook his head. _Are you fucking kiddin' me? Did you not see what happened to Prick and his buncha sorry shits after they fucked with me? Did you not see what I did to them? I'm gonna go and get her. What a buncha bullshit._

Not that he couldn't rightly blame the man for trying to assert who was the alpha dog. It was what he had done when he introduced himself to Prick. First impressions were crucial in his mind. They established who was in charge, what the expectations would be, and what would happen should someone step outta line. Slade had stepped way outta line. The muther fucking fuck thought he could waltz into _his_ Sanctuary, ram his goddamn dick down his throat, and he was gonna fucking thank him for it? _Who the fuck did the asshole shit fuck think he was? Prick_?

Prick was where Fin was. A thorough search of the Sanctuary had revealed that Harper kid was also missing. The possibility of seeing Prick again eradicated what annoyance he felt with the one-eyed dickhead. _This day is definitely shaping up_ , he thought as he shoved to his feet.

He could almost imagine the look that would be on Prick's face when he arrived at his gates to retrieve Fin's cute lil' ass. Oh, yeah, his reaction would be abso-fucking-lutely priceless.

"Dwight!" He called out. "Bring me the keys to the hunter's cell!" He paused; considered. "And bring some breakfast with you! Let's show the sorry shit we aren't inhospitable assholes!"

He then hoisted Lucille up into the air and studied her.

"You approve of her cute lil' ass, don't you?" The sun glinted off every one of her barbs. Almost as if she was smiling her agreement. "Yeah, you'd fucking like her. She's a lot like you. Doesn't put up with my shit and lets me know when I've crossed the fucking line." He stopped to swallow the guilt and grief that never seemed to leave him. "She's not you, Lucille. She'll never replace you. I just want you to know that."

He then set her against his shoulder and walked from the room.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!


	21. Twenty-One

When voices came from his dad's bedroom, Carl assumed it was him and Michonne talking about what happened. The more he listened to the conversation, however, the more he realized the woman wasn't Michonne.

 _Her voice is different_ , he thought as he crept over to his bedroom door. _Lower, throatier_.

Just like Fenix's.

That was ridiculous, of course. Fenix wouldn't come here to talk to his dad. Why would she? She didn't even know him. Besides that, the conversation between her and his dad suggested they were quite familiar with each other.

She even scolded his dad without him getting pissed off about it. _Well, not like he would be if it was anybody else who had done it_ , he amended silently. Daryl could say stuff like that but that was because he could knock his dad on his ass if he got belligerent or was being too bull-headed.

 _Who is she_? he wondered as he opened the door a little wider and peeked out into the dim hallway. _Why is she here_?

And where had his Dad met her?

Shock waves raced down his spine a second later when she said, "He called on Red Robin a few weeks before the incident with Bud to express his concerns about my relationship with Negan."

 _Red Robin_. His pulse kicked, and his fingers twitched on the door he held. That's what she said. _Red_ Robin. _Only Fenix would call him Red Robin_ , he decided as he inched out into the hallway to get a better look at her.

Her back was to him so he couldn't see more than a swatch of green and long, dark hair curling down her back. Her feet and legs were bare. Still, despite the lack of body armor, he could tell it was her.

It _was_ Fenix.

She was there in his house.

 _Unmasked_.

Excitement kicked off the lingering lethargy and exhaustion hounding him since he woke up from his nap. Part of him wanted to push into his dad's room and demand how exactly it was they knew each other. _Why has he never mentioned meeting a woman named Fenix?_

Did his dad even know she was Fenix? It was possible, given how she was there out of armor that he didn't have any clue about who she was. _Does he know she works for Batman?_

Something told him his dad didn't have a clue that there were heroes out there keeping watch. _Even now, with everything going on, Batman still patrols Gotham, Superman watches over the entire planet, and Green Arrow is busy trying to keep the West coast safe with the help of Flash and Green Lantern._

He found himself wondering how many of the other League and Titan members were in Virginia. He knew Robin was patrolling the area. As well as Red Robin. Who else was helping keep things under control?

 _And_ _why didn't they come to our aid last night?_

The last bothered him the most. Had any of the Justice League or Teen Titans showed up then Glenn and Abraham would still be alive. _Why didn't they come_? Was it possible they were so busy fighting other threats that they couldn't? Or was it that they felt as Fenix and that they got what they deserved for what happened at Negan's outpost?

His musings got cut short when a soft cry sounded from the end of the hall. Judith was awake and likely wanted her diaper changed. Carl went to take care of her but froze when a soft chuff came from his dad's bedroom.

 _Is that Krypto_? _Nah_ , he decided with a shake of his head. It couldn't be. Her coming here with a dog as well-known as Krypto would just make who she was a little _too_ obvious. Still, he didn't want to get caught out here in the hall. His dad would have his hide if he found out he was eavesdropping on his conversation.

He ducked back into his bedroom just as the dog exited his dad's bedroom and trotted towards Judith's. He certainly _looked_ like Krypto. Even the red scarf he wore was similar to the one that the super dog wore.

He was about to open his door and call out to the big dog, but there was a rustling of silk before she told his dad, "We can talk about what to do next later."

"Fine," Dad grumbled. "And after that, we can head to Hilltop to have a talk with Jesus."

"That angsty little Jedi has a lot of explaining to do."

 _Geez, even Jesus knows her_? Carl thought as she padded towards Judith's room. _Who else knew her and didn't bother to say anything_?

He caught a glimpse of her face as she passed his door and almost gasped. The woman who walked by his door was the same one who showed up after Negan left.

 _But..._ A frown puckered his brow. _She sounds just like Fenix_.

The woman greeting his sister _couldn't_ be Fenix. There was no way a woman trained by Batman would have left them to Negan. Even if they deserved punishment for all those men killed, she'd still have stopped that asshole from killing Glenn and Abraham.

So, if she wasn't Fenix, as he assumed, then who else could she be? _And how does she know my dad?_ That, more than anything was what he wanted to know.

 _I guess the only way to find out is to go and ask her._ Carl opened his door and checked to make sure his father wasn't about before he crept down the hall. He peeked into the room just as she picked up Judith and gave her a cuddle.

"It's okay, angel," she told her as she carried her over to the changing table. "We'll get you out of that wet diaper."

Carl watched as she tickled and cooed, powdered and smoothed, and tidily fastened the fresh diaper. Judith happily babbled throughout the entire process. It wasn't that much a surprise. His sister tended to trust everyone. Soon as Judith was dressed in clean clothes, she picked her up and turned towards the door.

Carl stifled his gasp. He wasn't wrong, he realized. It _was_ her. She was Fenix. A plethora of thoughts and emotions shot through him as she continued crooning nonsense to his sister.

Some would say she wasn't real.

Fenix was just a figment of some writer's imagination.

An image drawn by some artist to go along with the idea some writer had for a new female superhero.

Only, she was not something created in the mind of some writer or artist. No, she was flesh, blood, and bone. A real and tangible entity he could reach out and touch if he chose too.

 _Like I did that day she saved me from those men in suits_.

The second a booted foot came down on his right shoulder he knew help had arrived. He just hadn't counted on _who_ the person coming to his rescue was.

Or that she wouldn't come alone.

...

The figure launched high into the air, their shadow in the shape of a bat as it splashed across the ground. Excitement streaked through him as he imagined all the possibilities for who his mystery rescuer could be.

 _Batman, Red Robin, Robin, Batgirl, Batwoman, Black Bat..._

The woman who landed in front of him was like something outta the glossy pages of one of his comics.

Only, a comic character she wasn't.

Nor was she some fangirl playacting at being her favorite DC superhero. For one thing, her skills were far and above superior to most cosplayers. Second, her suit wasn't made from plastic tubing, duct tape, and cardboard like all those other cosplayers suits would be.

No, if the fan sites he used to research the Batsuit were correct, then her suit was a custom-made one of the same materials that Batman's was.

The black material molded to her small frame, sheathing her upper arms, torso, shoulders, back, and legs. That suit would protect her from the worst these men would try to do.

Not that they could do much.

The black utility belt she wore low on her hips contained dozens of devices and gadgets that would help her stop the assholes.

The symbol emblazoned upon her chest plate in crimson and gold piping told him who she was.

 _Fenix_ , he thought as her cape billowed behind her like a pair of wings. _It's Fenix_.

And wherever she was? Nightwing or Red Robin was never far behind. Carl slowly moved into a sitting position, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw the men exchange looks. _Yeah, know you're in trouble now, huh, assholes?_

Not that their leader seemed ready to order them to fall back.

"So," the dark-skinned man sneered. "Looks like Fenix has finally decided to show up."

"Whenever the monsters are terrorizing the innocent is when I show up," Fenix replied in a low, throaty rasp. "You know that, Askalov."

"What I know is you're outnumbered."

"Am I?" One dark brow lifted. "Or is your arrogance leading you to believe that I am outnumbered?"

"There's no Batman, Red Robin, Red Hood or Nightwing here to help you. The odds," he said, lips spread wide as he swept his arms behind him, "are clearly in our favor."

A soft growl was followed by a white blur as a mammoth-sized dog joined the fray. The dark-skinned man yelped as the white dog lunged at him, snapping his massive jaws and stomping his baseball-sized feet with enough force to kick up dirt and dust.

"Protect the boy, Krypto." Fenix indicated him with a nod of her head. "I'll handle Askalov and the others."

"Interfering mongrel..." The man swung the pipe in his hand, but Krypto caught it between his teeth and yanked it away. "Shit!"

"Protect the boy," Fenix again commanded as she took hold of the pipe. "He's in your care. Let nothing happen to him."

Krypto obeyed her command after snarling one last time at the man, who wisely backed away. He moved to where Carl sat, his chocolate eyes focused on the men standing less than ten feet away.

Carl could only stare at the dog in open-mouth amazement. _He can't be_... he thought. There was no way that this Krypto was the same Krypto as in the comics. However, the red scarf around his neck with the big S outlined in gold on the back, and the leather collar with the gold dog tag all indicated that it was. _Does that mean Superman or Superboy could also be nearby_?

He sure hoped so.

The fur along the dog's back and tail stood completely on end when the dark-skinned man made a threatening gesture at him. His razor-sharp teeth showed beneath his slightly curled lip and his muscles quivered beneath his glossy white coat. He was a guardian given orders to protect. Carl knew he would do so with every fiber of his body.

"That mutt isn't enough to help you," the man sneered as he turned back to Fenix. "You've lost. Accept it."

"One of me is still more than enough to take out you and your baboons, Askalov."

A soft _Ttch_ interrupted whatever the dark-skinned man was about to say. A soft voice then sneered, "And _you_ tell _me_ how _I_ need to share."

Carl's swung his gaze to where a masked teen perched on a low tree branch. His eyes popped wide when he saw the boy. He was only a year or so younger than him, with short-cropped hair a glossy shade of black, and deep blue eyes.

He was in that weird sort of gangly stage where his limbs were out of proportion with the rest of his body. His face, what could be seen of it around the green half-mask he wore, was a bit thin, his nose straight and tilted just slightly at the tip.

His mouth smiled easily, coolly.

His suit was similar to Fenix's. Only, his colors were yellow, red and black. His gauntlets, gloves, and boots were a neon green. Clipped to his gold utility belt was a cylindrical shaped item that would extend into a full-sized bo-staff.

 _Robin_ , he thought as excitement chased away his pain. _The Boy Wonder is here_.

"Why, if it ain't little Robin." One of the men growled as the others laughed and jeered. "Past your bedtime, ain't it, kid?"

"Past time for your beating." Robin dropped down beside Fenix. "Isn't it?"

Robin's sudden appearance served to momentarily distract the scarred man. Carl half expected him to give the order to retreat.

"The odds are still in our favor," he said. "Not yours."

"Twenty of you against Fenix and myself?" Robin snorted a laugh. "You need more help."

Askalov's smile vanished beneath the weight of Robin's cool confidence. "Get them!" he snarled at his men. "Now!"

The men advanced as one solid human wall before splitting off, moving to flank the heroes on all sides. Against ordinary people, it would be a superb intimidation tactic. Against two people personally trained by Batman?

It was kid's stuff.

They charged as one unit. Back to back, Fenix and Robin took on their attackers, lashing out with boots and fists.

Each was a flurry of lightning-fast strikes and acrobatic-like dodges.

Not a move was wasted.

They fought in perfect sync, always knowing where the other was and anticipating the other's move long before they made it.

Carl thought them the greatest of teams, second only to one other duo: Batman and the original Robin.

Fenix spun the pipe that Krypto confiscated and dealt the dark-skinned man a crushing blow to the side of his head. He dropped to the ground without making a sound.

Carl couldn't help it, he tossed his arms up and whooped a soft cheer. His exhilaration turned into a groan as his body reminded him of the abuse it suffered at the hands of the man called Timo.

Krypto whimpered and pawed at his arm. He obliged the dog's request for attention, feeling that silky fur sliding against his rough palm and curling over the back of his fingers.

The superdog's solid warmth and self-serving brand of comfort were a balm against the burning ache in the middle of his chest. He shouldn't have been out here. He should have stayed home as Dad told him. He just wanted to prove he could do more than watch Judith. Anger bubbled but was rejected.

There was no time now to give into anger. _Later_ , he promised himself as Krypto rest his furry head on his shoulder. He could be angry about what happened later.

For now, he was just thankful that Robin and Fenix arrived when they did. He didn't want to think about what might have happened had they not showed up when they had. His aching ribs were enough of a reminder about what might have happened had Fenix and Robin not shown up.

...

He hadn't told his dad about what happened while he was out on that run. There hadn't been time what with Maggie getting sick and all. His dad would have enough of a conniption about him being out there, alone, and after dark.

 _I wasn't alone, though_ , he thought as Judith giggled. _She was there._

 _With Robin._

 _And Krypto._

He really hadn't thought his dad would believe him. That was the main reason he hadn't told him about what happened. There were a lotta people who didn't believe that heroes like "Batman" was real.

To a lotta people, _Batman_ was just some comic book superhero created to give a bunch of people with a bit of entertainment and fun. They'd laugh at anybody who said he was a flesh and blood man.

 _Especially a dumb kid like me_.

 _He_ knew Batman was real, though.

Same as Fenix was real.

 _Why is she with an asshole like Negan?_ he wondered as she started singing softly. _He's everything she has spent her career fighting._

By her own admission, though, she had feelings for the asshole. _And she's not sorry for them_.

A soft chuff interrupted his musings. Carl's startled gaze swung downwards to find that Krypto had come to sit beside him. He stretched out a shaky hand towards the white dog but froze when Fenix — or Raya Kean, he wasn't sure which name to call her by — spoke.

"You don't need to lurk in the doorway, Carl. I promise that I don't bite."

He glanced at her, saw her standing there with a happily cooing Judith in her arms and a warm smile curving her lips. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but only two words came out.

"You're her."

"Her?" One brow lifted. "Her who?"

"Fenix."

"I am, am I?" Dimples flashed in her cheeks as she smiled. "And why is it that you think I am Fenix?"

"You sound just like her."

"Sounding like someone means nothing." She brushed her fingertips over Judith's curls. "You are starting to sound like your father."

Carl swallowed a curse. She had a point. Many people did tend to sound alike. However, not all of them used particular names when talking about a team member.

"You used Red Robin's codename when you were talking with my dad."

"Maybe I am friends with Red Robin," she countered. "I am from Goth..."

"Aha!" He cut in triumphantly. "There's also that!"

"There's also what?"

"You're from Gotham."

"I am from Gotham," she agreed with a slight nod of her head. "That doesn't mean I am Fenix."

He waved towards Krypto who yipped and stomped his front paws to signal his displeasure at not getting any attention. "What about Krypto?"

"What about him?"

Her parroting questions back at him was wearing on his patience. He tamped his frustration down, recognizing the move for what it was: a stall tactic.

"Krypto wouldn't be with you unless Superman told him to watch over you."

"Well, you're right about Krypto." She rest her cheek against Judith's curls. "Superman did ask Krypto to stay and watch over me and my family."

"Because you have a son who is one-fourth Kryptonian."

"I do have a son, yes." Her eyes crinkled at the corners. "He's the same age as you, in fact."

"And his name is Kai-El."

"His name is Christopher, actually."

"Christopher Kent," he gritted. "Son of Conner Kent."

Krypto _whoofed_ and stamped his feet again but he ignored the big dog as he waited for her to confirm or deny his statement.

"Yes," she finally admitted. "Christopher is the son of Conner Kent."

"You're her," he repeated his earlier statement, firmer this time. "You're Fenix."

He figured she'd again deny it. Or tell him to mind his business. However, she surprised him when she smiled.

"You're right." She shifted Judith to her hip and slowly walked towards him. "I am Fenix. However," she paused in front of him. "As the woman who is going to make you and your sister breakfast... I'd prefer it if you called me Raya."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	22. Twenty-Two

"Well, I've definitely seen worse knees than yours," Leslie Thompkins commented as she examined an X-Ray. "Football, basketball, and professional wrestlers all tend to have this same type of cartilage damage in their knees."

"Mhm," Bruce replied absently, only half-listening. He had too many other things on his mind to worry about the types of injuries that professional athletes tended to get. "That's nice."

He sat on an examination table in the hospital that Leslie helped set up after the virus outbreak. Alfred called her on the private communication line he created for such a necessity only after voicing his standard objections about what he was planning being foolhardy and ill-advised. Bruce shrugged off his objections, citing that getting more mobility back in his knee was best all around. Not that Alfred believed him.

Not that it mattered. Bruce was doing what he felt was best for himself and for his family. Not that he didn't understand Alfred's concerns. He did. However, what Alfred — and Dick, Diana and Barbara — was not taking into consideration was that he didn't have any other choice. Not when it was the Joker. He had to stop the Clown Prince. _I need to stop him_ , he added silently.

"Bruce, have you even been listening to a word I've said?"

Bruce shook himself from his thoughts and glanced at Leslie.

"You said my knee isn't that bad."

"No, I said I've seen worse in athletes."

"I should be able to get back my strength and mobility back in it, though, right?"

"You might get some mobility back," she acknowledged with a nod. "But the knee itself will never be as strong as it once was."

"But if you've seen worse..."

"Bruce, there's _no_ cartilage in either of your knees." She frowned at him from over the rim of her glasses. "And there's not much more in your elbows or shoulders." She slid the X-Ray into a folder and set it atop a cabinet. "It's honestly a miracle you move as well as you do. Most men in your condition would be in constant discomfort and taking high doses of pain medication to combat the pain they're in."

Bruce merely grunted. Pain was a constant he accepted long ago. It came with being Batman. It was the price he paid for the life he'd chosen to live. Injuries were a small price to pay for the service he provided to the people of Gotham and all over the world.

"Is there anything that can be done to strengthen the knee?"

"There are a number of cartilage repair and regrowth procedures out there that would help," she said slowly, her face pensive. "Microfracture, meniscus transplant, osteochondral autograft transplant." She cocked her head to the side. "There's even cell-based cartilage resurfacing."

"All of those require time and specialty equipment and doctors we don't have at this moment," Bruce pointed out. "I need something that will work long enough for me to find and stop the Joker."

"And I'm telling you there's no such miracle fix out there." With her face scrunched in disapproval, Leslie walked over to take a seat on a stool. "You want to strengthen that knee? Then cartilage repair or regrowth is your only option."

"What about a knee brace that would serve as a replacement for the mission cartilage?"

"It's possible it would work," she allowed. "But it's not going to work as a long-term solution."

"I don't need a long-term solution," Bruce told her. "Just something that will give me enough time to stop the Joker from doing whatever he's got planned."

"Why don't you just let your protégés handle him?"

"Because I need to stop him, Leslie."

"You don't _need_ to do anything, Bruce."

"I need to stop him." He kept his tone light, neutral. The last thing he needed was Leslie angry with him. "I have to make sure the Joker is no longer a threat before I walk away for good."

"The truth is that you _want_ to go after him."

He didn't bother to deny it because it was true. He did want to go after the Joker. He needed to stop him. Not Dick, Jason or Tim. _Him_. He was the head of the family. It was up to him to keep everyone safe.

"Leslie," he said finally. "I have to go after him. There is no other choice."

"Why?" She demanded. "Why do you have to go after him?"

"Because we have no idea what he's got planned."

"Do you ever know what that damn clown has planned?"

"No," Bruce admitted with a sigh. "But he's had three years to put whatever he has in mind together."

"And that makes the only one qualified to stop him is you."

"Yes." He leaned forward. "Now, will a carbon-fiber brace work to stabilize the knee enough for me to go after him?"

Leslie was silent for several moments. Finally, and with a heavy sigh, she nodded.

"It should, yes."

"Then I need to place a call."

"To Lucius Fox, I take it?"

He nodded as he stood. "Yes," was all he said as he slowly limped from the room.

...

"What _are_ you doing?"

Barbara's voice Dick jerked out of the haze he had fallen into as he sifted through a box of CDs and cassette tapes that Alfred had stashed in the entertainment cabinet some time ago. He fumbled a few cases and stifled a curse as they fell to the ground. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay. I was just so lost in thought that I didn't hear you in the hall."

"Obviously," she said dryly. "If I was an intruder you'd have been in trouble."

"No." He sent her an easy-going smile. "They would have been the ones in trouble."

"You were the one not paying attention."

"Yes, but they're the ones who'd have been fried before they even managed to make it into the manor." He went back to digging. "Or did you forget about Bruce having installed those electric plates after Talia sent her armed assassins here a few years back?"

She grimaced. "I honestly thought he was kidding about installing those."

"When has Bruce ever joked about security measures he's said he's installed?"

"Well... never."

"Exactly."

"Still, you weren't paying attention because you're so engrossed in that box..."

He heard the mild curiosity in her tone but chose not to tell her what he was doing. He wouldn't until she directly asked him what he was doing. He replied with a vague, "I'm going through it," just to see what she'd do.

"Clearly." She harrumphed. "And making a big mess from the looks of it."

"I'll make sure to clean up before Alfred sees it."

"You better or there will be hell to pay."

He looked up, a teasing comment on his lips, but found himself too distracted by the sight of her to speak it. He couldn't help it, though. To him, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Even with her red hair pulled into a messy bun, a basket of laundry perched on one hip and a blue blanket with little yellow duckies draped over one shoulder.

 _Richie's favorite blanket._ The one she repeatedly told him that he needed tucked over him or he wouldn't go down for a nap. He didn't think Richie even knew there was a difference between his ducky blanket or the teddy bear one. However, he knew better than to argue with Barbara about stuff like that. _Life's so much easier when I just smile and nod_.

Where Richie was at that moment, he didn't know. If things were like they were earlier than his son was holding court as Diana, Gordon, and Cass all took turns tickling, cooing, cuddling or talking baby nonsense to him.

 _Even Bruce tends to forget himself when he's around Richie_ , he realized. Not that it was that much of a surprise. Bruce came off as cold, insensitive and uncaring. A large part of that was because it fit the image he cultivated as Gotham's dark protector. The truth, though, was he cared a great deal. He wouldn't work as hard as he did to protect people if he didn't.

Being Batman came with sacrifices. Something Dick discovered when he became Robin but didn't fully appreciate until the first time he took up the mantle. Granted, he could separate himself from Batman easier than Bruce, but there were still prices he had to pay. Especially now that he was a husband and father.

Having so many people around to keep an eye on things was the biggest reason why he agreed to live here at the Manor. He didn't need to worry that his wife and son were safe while he was out on patrol or away handling League business.

It was just the rest of his family he had to worry about.

 _Alfred urged patience. Said I had to wait until they contact me. I can't do that, though. Not when it's the Joker. I need to know they're okay. I need them to know that I'm here for them. And this,_ he thought as he picked up a CD _, is the only way._

"Dick? Did you hear me?"

"Huh? Wha?" With a quick, sheepish smile, he set the CD to the side and looked at her. "Sorry, what did you ask me?"

She harrumphed again.

"I asked what you're doing, bird boy." She sent him a pointed look. "For the second time, I might add."

That was Barbara for he'd better answer her this time or else.

"I'm compiling a list of songs." He picked up a few more CDs and cassette tapes and moved them off to the side in what he termed the _haven't decided yet_ pile. "Thought sorting through an old box of CDs and mix tapes would be easier than sitting for hours in the cave and browsing through the catalog that Bruce has on the Batcomputer."

"Considering how massive that catalog is," she said, "it would take hours just to find three songs."

He held up a few cassettes and CD cases.

"Hence why I'm going through these old CDs and cassette tapes."

One eyebrow tilted up. "Don't you have most of the songs you like burned on your iPod?"

"I did... yes."

"What do you mean 'you did'?" Suspicion darkened her tone. "Don't you still have it?"

"I still have the iPod," he confirmed with a nod. "But it's not gonna be of any use."

"Why not?"

"Because Damian smashed it in a fit of rage months ago."

"Ah." She set the laundry basket down and came to crouch beside the box. "Well, that would definitely make it unusable."

"Just a bit, yes."

"So, may I ask _why_ you're compiling a list of songs?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "In need of a new playlist to play while you're out on patrol?"

He snorted a laugh. "Hardly."

"Then why?"

"Well, since I can't get an actual verbal message from your cousin to tell me what is going on down in Virginia, I'm going to try to get one from her using other means."

"Other means being music?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"What makes you think that Raya will respond to music if she isn't replying to any of the other messages you have sent her?"

"Well, this is something she will know is directly from me and only me."

"Oh?" Her other eyebrow winged up to join the first. "And why's that?"

"Because it's something I'd do back when I was on patrol and needed to say something to her that I didn't want Bruce or Alfred to hear. A little Robin-Fenix code you could call it."

"And Bruce never figured out what you were doing?"

He shook his head, grinned. "Nope."

"That must have driven him bonkers."

"Oh, it did." He chuckled softly as he recalled how irritated it had made him. "We had so much extra homework that I'm surprised he ever let us out of the cave."

"He gave you _both_ extra homework?"

"And me additional field tests and tasks."

"Wow..." she breathed out. "That seems a bit excessive for not telling him about your secret code."

"Well, I think he was more annoyed by our song choices than he was about us having a secret code."

"You chose music that annoyed him on purpose, didn't you?"

"Me?" All innocence, Dick picked up another couple of CDs and moved them to the definite pile. "Why, whatever gives you that idea?"

"I know you." She picked up a cassette case with a smirk. "I know how that mind of yours works."

He sent her a smirk over his shoulder. "That's what _you_ think."

She just hummed as she sifted through the remaining CDs and tapes in the box. Barbara _did_ know him better than anyone else in the family, he acknowledged silently as he watched her. However, she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. There were many secrets and things he hadn't ever told her. _And many things I keep buried because I don't want them affecting her._

"So, how did you manage to do it?" Her head cocked to the side and her eyes behind her glasses glistened with intrigue. "Did you have a way to play a file on the Batcomputer? Or did you hack her phone, and have it play as a ringtone?"

"Well, until Bruce burned every song under the sun into the Batcomputer, I'd hum part of a song as we were talking on the coms."

"Ah, and she'd reply in kind?"

"Usually with another song, yes."

"It's an interesting code." Barbara's eyes narrowed as she contemplated one CD. "But I don't see it working. Tim scrambled communications on their end."

"I know."

"Then how exactly do you plan on using the songs?"

He set a copy of the Backstreet Boys greatest hits on the pile of maybes. There were a few songs he could think of that would work as coded messages that'd also annoy the hell out of Damian. _Double win_ , he thought as he set some empty cases in another box. He not only got to send a message to Raya, but he got to pester Damian by playing music that would drive him insane.

"I'm going to make a playlist of songs and upload them to the server and..."

"Use the Batcomputer to stream the music to her..." she said as she figured out what he was planning. "Rather like how we use Apple's Airplay to play music across our devices at the same time."

"Exactly." He glanced at her. "Do you think it will work?"

"It should since the Batcomputer is the main server. It controls all the other computers on the network." She rose to her feet. "Rather an ingenious idea you've thought up here, bird boy." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Must say I'm impressed."

"I'm just hoping it works as I hope and that she replies."

"It will, and she will." She walked back to the basket of laundry. "She's not ignoring you, Dick. Not on purpose."

"I wish I could believe that…"

"You're the first one she reaches out too when she needs help." She picked the basket up and perched it on her hip. "You always will be."

"Not always," he said. "I wasn't there for her the last time she asked me for help."

"You were needed elsewhere, and she understood that." She turned then. "So, quit beating yourself up about it and move on."

"Easier said than done," he grumbled as he resumed his search. "Easier said than done."

...

The cell door groaning jerked Daryl into an upright position. He half expected that sumbitch, Dwight to enter with his standard breakfast of dog food smeared on a milk bone biscuit. Instead, the last asshole he wanted to see or hear stepped into the light, a huge, smart-ass grin spread across his whiskered face, and that damn baseball bat of his slung over one shoulder.

"Wakey-fucking-wakey," Negan said. "Time to rise and shine and all that shit."

Daryl didn't bother to reply. There was no point in his mind. Negan was gonna do enough talking for the both of 'em.

"Aw, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" That grin got wider. "See, now, I'm just trying to make friendly here. Our relationship did start with me beating the holy fucking fuck out of your friend's. The gravity of that is not fucking lost on me. Let me assure you of that."

He could well imagine that what Negan had done wasn't something he'd forgotten any more than Daryl himself had. Only, the asshole didn't feel one bit sorry for what he had done. No, he had enjoyed every moment of it.

"I am well and truly fucking sorry for that shit happening," Negan said. "But you gotta understand something. Rules are rules for a fucking reason. And you fucking fucks broke them. I didn't have any choice but to teach you what the consequences are for that shit."

Daryl merely glared at him, silently daring the sumbitch to do something; anything. He was ready for the end to come. It was what he deserved after what all he did to Glenn. He got denied that request, much as he had been all the other times he prayed for that bat to make short work of him.

"Now, you're the second muther fucking fuck to make them fuck you eyes at me today."

"Yeah?" Daryl managed to croak. "And what'n hell you do to the other sumbitch? Huh?"

"Well, now, you see." Negan crouched so they were eye-level. That bat of his sat before him as a silent warning of what would happen if Daryl made any move whatsoever against him. "I can't do jack shit to Slade fucking Wilson." His eyes gleamed with pleasure and delight. "Not fucking yet, anyway. I still need the one-eyed fucking fuck. He gives me shit that we need in exchange for information."

That name set off bells inside Daryl's head. Mule mentioned a man named Slade. Said he was a mistake she couldn't get the hell away from. _Was that the sumbitch I heard outside my damn cell earlier_?

"You, though?" The asshole pointed at him. "You, I can cut pieces from. Pieces I can put in a fucking box and personally deliver to Prick." He cocked his head. "Of course, if I do cut pieces from you and take them to Prick..." he trailed off into a thoughtful silence. A clear sign he knew something and was relishing the moment before the reveal. Just like he had before he brought that bat down on top of Abraham's head. "I will piss off someone's cute lil' ass."

"Yeah, and who'n hell would get pissed off if'n you cut pieces off my ass?"

"Well, you see, hunter fuck, I know her as Fin. But you? You likely know her as Fenix. Or…" Daryl's world tilted as Negan paused. He could hear his heart thudding in his chest. Feel it in his throat. "Do you know her by her real name? What did that one-eyed fuck call her?" He made a faint sound deep in his throat. "Raya? Yeah, that's her real name."

Struck mute, Daryl could only watch as Negan's smile became that same demented one he had right before bringing that bat down on top of Glenn's head.

"Yeah," he said as he slowly stood. "I betcha didn't think I would find out you knew her, huh?"

"Leave Mule's ass outta this," he managed around the sandpaper in his mouth. "You hear me? You leave her ass outta this shit."

"I guess you better play by the rules then, huh, hunter fuck?" Negan signaled to someone standing behind him. "Now, get your ass dressed. We're gonna go and retrieve her royal fucking highness from Prick."

Daryl realized he had no choice but to play along. _For now_ , he thought as one of Negan's men tossed a balled-up wad of material at him. That it wasn't Dwight who tossed the garment at him dawned on him only after he was dressed and loaded in the back of a supply van.

 _Where'n hell is he_? he wondered as the truck rumbled down the road towards Alexandria.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	23. Twenty-Three

As Slade made his way through Negan's domicile, he found himself thinking about others who thought they could get away with using, manipulating or outright betraying him.

The first person who came to mind – who always came to mind - when he thought of people who betrayed him was Billy.

Even now, all these years later, Billy's betrayal still caused his veins to fill with a flood of cold rage. _And why shouldn't it_? He questioned as he stormed by a group of men and women.

He and Billy had been more than simple partners. They were more than friends even. They were brothers. Billy was his son's godfather, in fact. Yet none of it mattered once they reached an island in the North China Sea called Lian Yu.

Things went down the shitter before he and Billy even reached their destination. A tomahawk missile collided with the rear of the plane, announcing a military presence on the island that their intel clearly had no prior knowledge of. With no other choice or options open to them, they set the plane down and went to ground.

They managed to evade capture for a few days. However, their luck ran out during a bad storm. They got taken back to a military-style camp and subjected to every manner of torture that bastard, Fyers, could come up with. Every one designed to get them to break and reveal what organization they worked for.

Not that _he_ did.

The same couldn't be said for Billy. In a move that left him reeling, Billy agreed to take Fyers offer to join him and his cause. Slade found himself too stunned for hurt or fury. Never would he have expected Billy to betray him. To turn his back on everything he stood for, put his life on the line for.

That they almost died for.

For almost a year, he languished in that camp, enduring the physical torture Billy inflicted all the while planning his revenge.

He hoped for rescue a few times but quickly realized no one was coming for him. Nobody knew to come for him. It didn't matter. He had been abandoned, presumed captured or worse yet, dead, many times before. It was the price one paid when they worked for the Australian Secret Intelligence Service. Deceit, treachery, and death came with the territory. They were parts of his job that he accepted when he agreed to his first assignment.

Lian Yu proved his final straw, however. His time on that appropriately named rock broke him down and changed him in ways he never expected. Billy was only the first person to stab him in the back while he was on the island. The second and most unforgivable bit of treachery came from the kid he took under his wing and helped turn into a man.

Before he entered his life, Oliver Queen was nothing but the spoiled son of a billionaire. After being trained some by him and Shado, he became a force to reckon with. Together, they managed to stop Fyers and rescue Shado. Things didn't go the way they anticipated, though. Rather than escape the island as they hoped, they found themselves having to fight an entirely new enemy: Anthony Ivo.

Ivo was searching the island for a beached submarine containing a Japanese serum rumored to give super strength to those injected with it. There was little question that they needed to find the submarine before Ivo. Not only was keeping the serum out of his hands crucial, but there was hope it'd help to heal the burns he suffered following an explosion. They managed to find the submarine, buried as it was in the island's infrastructure and found a container of the mirakuru still onboard.

He was close to death when Oliver injected him with the mirakuru. It was like hot lava coursing through his veins. White-hot pain rocked him from head to toe. The silence of the darkness slowly enveloping him had provided a much-needed balm to the pain ripping him apart at the seams.

Slade could well remember the cold hands of death sinking their claws into him, pulling him into an embrace that was deceptively soothing and inviting. How easy it would have been to give in, to let go of it all, and fade into that comforting abyss. If he had been the sort of man who quit when the road got a bit bumpy then that's what he'd have done.

However, the one thing Slade Wilson had never been was a quitter. He wouldn't sail off into that long goodnight without putting up a fight, first. With the mirakuru flowing through his veins, Slade fought off death's clutches and went to save Shado from Ivo and his men.

Only, he arrived too late to stop her from being shot in the head by Ivo. Even now he could feel her still warm body limp and heavy in his arms. Blood trickled down her face from the blackened wound in her temple. He buried her next to her father before going after the man responsible for her death.

That was when he discovered Oliver's betrayal. Not only had he stolen Shado's affections away from him, but he caused her death, too. Had he not jumped in front of the Lance woman to protect her, Ivo wouldn't have shot Shado. Oliver tried to reason with him, to explain what happened, but a red haze clouded his mind and kept him from thinking rationally.

Promises carried a special meaning for him. They were not guarantees he made recklessly, wantonly or foolishly. He tended to treat them as others did the tenets of the religious beliefs that once dominated the world. Yet that night he made a promise: to make Oliver Queen suffer for what he had done.

Oliver — much like Billy — discovered how well he kept his word during their confrontation on board the Amazo...

…

 _Amazo, the past_

It happened all the sudden. One minute, he was charging at the kid, poised to deliver the final, crushing blow to a man he once considered his friend. Who he called his _brother_. Then the floor beneath his feet pitched and rolled violently. He struggled to stay upright as an explosion happened from somewhere behind him.

Sparks rained down as the bow of the Amazo separated from the rest of the groaning freighter holding it in its clutches. He and Oliver got thrown to the deck as the last of the ship's support beams buckled and snapped. Twisted, burning metal tumbled down from overhead, sizzled and steamed as it met the water flooding the hold at an even more accelerated rate. Then came searing hot pain followed by a cold oblivion.

When he regained consciousness a few minutes later, he found himself flat on his back, crushed by a fallen beam, its massive weight pinning him to the floor. His vision was a bit blurry and his recollection of things a bit fuzzy, but he was still clearheaded enough to see that this section of the hold hadn't yet flooded with seawater.

A furtive glance told him it would only be a matter of time before the water rushing in reached where he was. He shoved at the beam across his chest, grunting with the effort, but it did not move.

Slade hissed out a curse and used all his strength to lift the beam enough to wriggle his way free. It wouldn't budge. He howled like a wild animal, his curses becoming fouler with every breath, and his mirakuru fueled rage more volatile.

A movement to his right caught his attention and he turned his head in time to see the kid. Fate was again on the bastard's side as he somehow managed to get tossed clear of the falling wreckage. Oliver approached where Slade was held captive, an arrow held loosely in his right hand and a glass vial that was somehow still intact, in the other. Slade knew what was inside that syringe. Same as he knew what the kid hoped to do with it.

Not that he planned to let him.

If Oliver wanted to inject him with that substance, well, he would have to knock him out, first. He renewed his struggle with the beam, feeling his fury mounting, and his hatred for Oliver becoming an even more terrible entity.

"What do you think you are gonna do with that, kid?" His lips twisted into a sneer. "Stick me with it? Cure me of the mirakuru?"

"That's exactly what I am going to do, Slade." Oliver's voice shook with exhaustion and pain. "I'm going to cure you of the mirakuru and end this before any more people end up getting hurt."

"You were the one who gave me the mirakuru in the first place!"

"That's why it needs to be me who gives you the cure, Slade."

"Go ahead!" His challenge sparked the kid's temper. As he knew it would. The kid was nothing if not predictable. "Cure me! It will change nothing, kid." His lips curled into a smile full of the malice in his heart. "I will keep my promise! I will take away everything and everyone you love!"

The kid's features were like granite. His lips thinned into a hard, uncompromising line. Oliver was doing his best to suppress his anger, but Slade could see he all but vibrated with it.

One small push was all it would take to bring out the killer he knew lurked just below that glacier calm. He struck where he knew Oliver was the most vulnerable, every word a dagger he plunged straight into the bastard's black heart.

"Sara was only the first," he told him. "I guarantee that she was only the first of those I will take away from you!"

Oliver's grip on the vial loosened.

"Your pretty little sister..."

His fingers flexed around the shaft of the arrow in his other hand.

"Sara's sister." Malevolent spite dripped from every word. "Laurel..."

 _And there_ , he thought as anger blazed in the kid's eyes. _There is the killer I know you are._

He moved in for the kill.

"Your mother! I will kill them all!"

The last thing Slade saw was Oliver rear back with that arrow. His world erupted in pain as that arrow drove through his right eye.

After that there was nothing.

…

That promise saved him from what would have been certain death. While the mirakuru worked to repair his broken bones and torn flesh, his anger and hate kept him focused mentally. His promise that Oliver Queen would not die until he had known complete and utter despair fortified him, strengthened him, firmed his resolve to survive and see his words carried out.

He held to that promise for the nearly two weeks he navigated the treacherous waters of the Northern Pacific. Even when the churning waters tossed him about as if he was little more than a piece of paper, hammering his body, stealing his strength until it finally pulled him below the surface, his vow to make Oliver pay kept him strong.

Negan would learn — much like Billy and Oliver — about the price for crossing him. He would relish making the man pay for his audacity. Seeing him twitch would be...

"Boss?"

Slade shook himself from his thoughts and turned to look at Liam.

"What is it?"

"One of Negan's men…" He cut his eyes towards a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a thick mustache. "Wants a word with you."

"Does he now?" He turned to the man. "And exactly what word does he want to have?"

"I know where the woman you're looking for can be found."

Slade felt his interest perk but didn't allow his hopes to get raised too much. Many had told him they knew where Raya was only to reveal the information was days-weeks-months old.

"And, where is she?" He indicated the factory behind him with one hand. "In there?"

"Tut, tut," the man said with a smile that grated on the last of Slade's patience. "We need to strike a deal before I tell you where she is."

Slade's fingers curled into his palms to keep them from clamping around the man's throat and squeezing the life from him.

"And what is it that you want in exchange for telling me where she is?"

"First, I want the supplies that you've been giving Negan delivered to me."

One eyebrow lifted. "Is that all you want in exchange for this information?"

"No." He shook his head. "There's one other thing I want in exchange for telling you where the bitch is."

Anger surged at hearing him address Raya by that word, but he quickly banked it. He'd make the bastard pay for debasing her once he had her and Rose somewhere safe.

"That is?"

"I want you to kill Negan."

…

Dwight pulled up outside the gates of Alexandria forty minutes after his conversation with Honey. He cut the engine and just sat there for a few moments, internally debating if he was a fool for making the trip here. Was alerting Fin 'bout that one-eyed son of a bitch back at the Sanctuary really worth the risk he was taking? _These assholes could shoot my ass on sight._

Not that he could really blame them if they did. While he largely agreed that what the sorry shits did at the outpost was wrong, he didn't feel Negan's way of handling shit was that much better. _Course, things might have been over after he killed the first guy,_ he reasoned as he dropped the kickstand. _But then that dumb shit, Daryl had to go and sucker punch Negan and caused a whole buncha more shit to go down._

Dwight instantly jumped in and offered to kill the asshole — not because he really wanted to kill him but because he knew he had to show his loyalty to Negan or else Honey could suffer for it — but Negan refused and instead opted to teach the group another lesson by bringing Lucille down on the skull of another of their members.

Dwight had suspected that killing one wasn't going to appease Negan. It was why he shot that asshole, Daryl, before tossing him in the back of that van. Negan would be looking for any reason he could to use Lucille on someone else. Daryl was his most likely target. As much as he disliked the son of a bitch, he felt he owed him for what they'd done to him.

Sure, it put the rest of them in the line of fire. Well, not all of them, he amended as he fished in his pocket for his packet of smokes. Only the kid and the women were safe from getting their skulls cracked open by Lucille. _If the kid stepped outta line, though..._

Dwight didn't let himself finish that thought. Much as he hated Negan, and his cruel and vindictive ways of dealing with people, he had to admit that there was one thing he wasn't: physically abusive towards women or kids. He didn't order either one killed or maimed. The one time Simon severely punished a kid, he went apeshit and warned that there would be consequences if it happened again.

Him ordering the leader — Rick, he finally recalled his name was — to chop the kid's arm off with his hatchet was a psychological move meant to break Rick. It worked to make him see how powerless he was, how helpless, and how compliance was his best option. He'd provide for Negan now and do what he was told because if he didn't, he could see his son or other members of his group harmed.

Subservience gained through torture and fear. It was what motivated him, as well as many others to pretend they were good little soldiers. Not everyone at the Sanctuary was like Negan. Or like his right-hand man, Simon. Many of them were just like the folks living behind the walls in front of him. Honest, decent, hardworking folk who had the rug ripped out from beneath them and were just doing their best to survive their shitty existence.

Thinking about how much he and the others were like the Alexandrian's didn't help solve his dilemma _._ Was coming here to warn Fin worth the potential loss of life or limb? Part of Dwight liked to think a world where good people did bad things for the sake of survival, Fin managed to keep some semblance of morality and decency.

 _She ain't killed anybody living,_ he thought as he reached into his pocket for his pack of smokes. _Shit, all she has done has been to help people have better lives._

Not that all of 'em deserved her help or even returned the favor in kind.

 _Like his ass didn't return the favor,_ he realized, grimacing _._ Fin had done everything she could to stop Negan from punishing him for getting Tina killed and causing some of his men to get maimed.

Not that he listened to her.

Anger and resentment burned beneath his skin as he recalled the feel of the iron as Negan pressed it against his cheek. The pain had been unlike anything he felt before. He imagined that the only thing that could hurt worse was being dropped in hot lava. The sound and smell of his flesh were things he'd never forget. _One time I wish my shitty memory would work to make me forget something._

Dwight shrugged off his bitter thoughts and climbed off the back of the bike. There was time later to wallow in self-pity. For now, he needed to warn Fin not only about that prick back at the Sanctuary but Negan being on his way here to retrieve her, as well. He slowly approached the gates, keeping watch for any of them undead assholes or anybody else for that matter. Why the hell Fin was there given Negan's feelings about the leader of Alexandria was beyond him.

 _Has she lost her damn mind_? he wondered as he stared at the gate. Beyond was a quiet community that people had taken advantage off before the shit hit the fan. _Is she here to make sure no more shit goes down before Negan sends men for the first pickup_? Of the two, the second sounded more like Fin than the first. _Woman is sharp as a tack. She wouldn't be here unless there was some purpose involved in it_.

He banged on the gate and stepped back to wait for someone to answer. A man slid the inner gate open less than a minute later. He stared at Dwight through narrowed eyes, a smirk playing about his mouth.

"Who are you?" he finally demanded. "What do you want?"

"Go and get your leader," he told him. "My business is with him."

"Your business is with me since I'm the one who opened the gate."

Dwight's bristled at the man's tone. He was half-tempted to shoot the prick with a crossbow bolt for his bullshit but banked the urge when he saw the number of people inside. Some, he saw, were carrying weapons. _And wouldn't think twice about using them on my ass._

"Look, if you don't want more trouble than you got already," he told him gruffly, "I'd go and get Rick. And tell him to bring a woman named Fin with him."

"And why should I do that exactly?"

"Because if you don't, Negan will make an example out of another of you sorry shits."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	24. Twenty-Four

Alfred waited for him outside the hospital in the smart car Bruce wisely commissioned years ago. Bruce climbed into the back of the luxury vehicle, grateful for having decided to change all his vehicles — his public and private ones — into these more energy-efficient ones. Many had thought him crazy for having invested so heavily in alternate sources of energy and transportation, but his foresight and Lucius Fox's ingenuity not only kept the majority of the lights on in Gotham, but allowed some the use of vehicles to get around.

 _Unlike the rest of the world_ , he thought, grimacing. Even working alongside Ray Palmer, Lex Luthor and others to convert more cities to alternate types of energy, many were still left in the dark. _No matter how much we do, it's not enough_. I fear it never will be enough. The guilt of that, the weight of it, sat heavy on him. What good was all his wealth and knowledge if he couldn't use it to help people survive?

Granted, a team of engineers, construction workers and volunteers managed to transform parts of the city into livable environments, but what about the rest of the world? Many were living in tents or other settlements without electricity, sanitation or clean water. Many were struggling just to find enough food to eat.

"Did you get the answer you were seeking, sir?" the butler asked as he began the short drive back to Wayne Manor. "Or were you told what you already suspected?"

Bruce gave him a half-amused look.

"I got the answer I needed, Alfred."

"And what answer was that, if I may ask?"

"You already know what Leslie told me." His lips crept up at the corners. "She called you as I was making my way downstairs."

"That she did," Alfred confirmed. "She also said you are not giving up on your quest to again don the cape and cowl and that she fears it will cost dearly."

"You both can quit worrying." Bruce stared out the window, not seeing the dilapidated buildings or empty streets. "If I can't find something that will help support my bad knee, I won't be able to don the cape and cowl."

"Maybe that is for the best, Master Bruce." There was no mistaking the relief in Alfred's tone. "Master Richard wears the cape and cowl now. And has done an admirable job given all he has had to conquer since stepping into the role."

Bruce ignored the butler's subtle jab. He didn't need anyone else pointing out to him how good a job that Dick was doing as Batman. He knew Dick was doing a phenomenal job. He'd not have passed the mantle to him if he thought otherwise. Instead, he took out his satellite phone and hit a number on speed dial. Lucius Fox answered on the second ring.

"This is Fox."

"Do you remember those unusual requests I used to make way back in the early days of our association?"

"The ones we used to have to hide beneath a slew of paperwork and a mountain of secrecy?" Bruce could easily imagine the amusement on the other man's face. "Yes, I remember them. What about them?"

"I have one to make."

"Do you now? And what is it that you need?"

"A carbon-fiber brace."

"Planning on returning to your extracurricular activities, I take it?"

"That is the goal, yes."

Up front, Alfred's smile faded. Bruce caught a glimpse of his careworn face in the rear-view mirror. The butler looked more than a little troubled and not at all happy about his request.

Bruce didn't blame him for how he felt. He understood Alfred was merely concerned. He had made up his mind, though.

As far as he was concerned, _Batman_ was officially out of retirement.

...

Patience was not one of his virtues. Not that he had many of those to begin with. Virtues were boring. They got in the way of his fun! And really, who needed things like morality, dignity or worse — _ethics_! getting in the way of a good laugh?

Not him!

He got rid of what virtues he possessed when he swam around in that toxic sludge ole Batsy tossed him into.

How liberating that bath was! Not only had the acid given him his perfectly white complexion and gorgeous green hair, but it gave him a new outlook on life to boot!

He got freed from the shackles society placed upon him. He could do what he wanted, to who he wanted and not care about the consequences!

There were none!

No, virtues belonged to someone like the big guy. They were those pesky trivial things that prevented the Dark Knight from seeing the truth about himself. They kept a smile from crossing that grim facade. They stopped him from truly enjoying the games he came up with.

Wasn't that the reason for why he decided to get rid of all those little scamps grasping the ends of that scalloped cape his dearest wore? They were what kept Batsy from enjoying life.

They kept him from paying him the attention he deserved.

However, his every attempt to get rid of the winged brat brigade met with failure. Oh, he almost succeeded once. His lips spread into a wide smile as he fondly remembered the events of a night in an Ethiopian warehouse. Everything went exactly as planned. He led little Robin right to him. Using the boy's own mother as bait worked splendidly!

 _Oh, it was so much fun,_ he thought, giggling softly. _Tricking the little tyke into thinking he was coming to save his mom only to have her turn him over to me in the end_. Why the crestfallen look on the boy's face when he realized his dear, sweet mom sold him out had been the icing on the cake! _Whoever said you can't enjoy a toy before breaking it?_

Oh, but the little scamp was far more than just a toy. _Husky Robin_ — as he nicknamed the chap — was his coup d'état. Robin was his way of overthrowing those pesky little virtues his Batsy had and awakening him to the truth: that he was just as crazy as the rest of them.

The plan had been brilliant!

It was a guaranteed success!

He finally figured out how exactly he could get around Batman's one little golden rule. Kill Robin and Batman was sure to _explode_!

Somehow, _somehow,_ the boy managed to not only survive the beating he delivered but the bomb he detonated before exiting the warehouse. How the brat managed to do it, he still did not know. And he wasn't terribly amused about it, either. How dare that obnoxious little bird play such a cruel joke on _him_!

Why, whoever heard of such a thing? The joke wasn't even all that funny in his opinion. _I mean, really! Faking your own death_? _That's not all that original_. No, it was quite cruel of the brat to have played such a despicable prank upon his Uncle J.

What was even more atrocious, and far less forgivable to him was how the princess stopped ole Batsy before he could finally take that plunge. _Just minutes away from showing the big lug the truth and you just had to interfere, Toots_ , he thought, lips turning downwards.

 _"Aw..." he gurgled while staring into Batsy's eyes. "Don't be such a par..."_

 _The rest of his statement ended with a choked sound as the fingers around his throat tightened their grip. His long, bony fingers dug into Batman's wrist gauntlet, but it wasn't to gain his release from that gloved grasp. No, no! It was to push the Dark Knight into taking that final plunge into the abyss of no return._

 _"It's over, Joker," Batman growled. "You're finished."_

 _"Over? Why, my dear, delusional, Dark Knight," he choked out. "The fun has only just begun. Soon as I get fr..."_

 _Fenix's elbow smashed into his face, momentarily silencing him. He glared at her as pain radiated across his face._

 _"Oh, my dear..." he simpered once the pain settled into a dull throb. "I'm really gonna have to hunt you down and kill you one of these days..."_

And kill her, he would. Just as soon as he could get the little darling alone he would have the coup d'état she denied him. She should have opened his present by now. That she hadn't vexed him, greatly. How dare the princess leave the castle before opening his present!

 _Well, if she won't open this present_ , he thought spitefully as he watched the big lug climb into a big truck. _I will just deliver an even better one that she can't help but open!_

He turned away, his lips stretched into a wide grin.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, my little brat..." he sang as he made his way from the Sanctuary. "Soon you will call the big black Bat!"

...

"How do you know my dad?"

Raya anticipated that being one of the first questions Carl would ask her once the initial shock of discovering her in his home wore off. _I just figured it'd come after he grilled me about Batman, Robin and the rest of the heroes I associate with_. A smile played about her mouth as she moved about the kitchen, gathering the items she needed so she could make him and his sister some breakfast.

 _Even though it's late afternoon now and I should be thinking about making them dinner._ She shrugged the thought off. What she chose to make them was not important in the larger scheme of things. Long as they had food in their bellies was all that mattered.

Besides that, breakfast was at any time in her family since their schedules tended to conflict.

It wasn't uncommon for the members of her family to eat breakfast before going on patrol. By the time they returned home, sleep was the only thing they craved. Plus, breakfast was the one meal the family tended to sit and eat together.

 _Even Jason tends to come around for breakfast_ , she mused as Judith happily played with the charms on her necklace. That was mostly because dinner was a more formal type affair in the Wayne household. Something Jason Todd didn't do unless Alfred managed to guilt him into it. _Even then_ , she thought as she unloaded items from the bag she brought with her. _He doesn't always attend._

When dinners were not formal affairs they were commonly eaten in front of the Batcomputer or during those long stakeouts that were often necessary in their line of work. Raya had lost count of how many times she or Alfred brought dinner to those in the field. It's what they did, however, because their family was a unit that worked together. _No person's job was too small or inconsequential._

"Was it after he woke up and left the hospital?" Carl pressed when she didn't reply. "Or did you meet him before he got shot?"

 _Did his father know me before the world went to hell_. It was what Carl really wanted to know. Not that she could blame him. There was no kid alive who wouldn't want to know if their parent worked with people like Batman and Superman.

She glanced over at him. He was watching her with the same penetrating stare Rick tended to get when he was interrogating her. _Boy, I bet he has his hands full with you_ , she thought as Judith tugged on one of the charms. She reached up and gently extricated the cat-shaped pendant from her small fingers.

"Kitty," Judith extolled with one long breath.

"Yes, it's a kitty," she agreed while offering the toddler a plastic spoon to play with. "Maybe later I will tell you a story about Krypto and the cheetah cubs he rescued."

"You have cheetah cubs?" Carl shot her an incredulous look, as if he thought she was joking. "Actual cheetah cubs?"

"I do," she said, nodding. "Zephyr and Zip."

"But..." His brow puckered. "Aren't they wild animals?"

"They are, yes."

"Why do you have them then?"

"Their mother was killed and they're too little to be on their own."

That frown darkened. "Killed how?"

"Most likely while trying to protect them from the undead."

"What about when they grow up? Will you still keep them?"

"Ideally, no," she said. "As you said, they're wild animals and should be living in their natural habitat."

"But?"

"But this isn't an ideal world." She went to the sink to get water. "Things change often."

"You want to release them, though."

"Yes." She shut the faucet off and moved back to the stove to stir the milk substance she created with a fork. "I've already discussed releasing them once they're no longer cubs."

"Where, though?"

"There's an animal preserve still operating in Kenya." She smiled as Judith banged the spoon against the bowl she set in front of her. "It's being run by a group of survivors led by Batwing."

A multitude of questions flickered across his face then. His father had the same expression after they first met. _He's so much like you, Rick_ , she thought, hiding her amusement.

"How many heroes are out there?" Carl asked. "Are the stories in comics real? What—"

"How about we start with me explaining when I met your father and work from there?"

"Okay," he grumbled. "How did you meet him?" A pause. "When?"

"It was after he left the hospital." That was the truth. Insomuch as she knew of it. She had never asked Rick how long it had been since he awoke from his coma. It hadn't been long by her estimation. His wound was still healing and needed medical care. "He just started searching for you and your mom when we met."

"And you met by chance?"

"That's right." She measured and poured flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt into the bowl. "He was taking shelter in an abandoned car when Krypto happened upon him."

" _Krypto_ was the one who found him?"

She nodded. "And let my son know that he was desperately in need of someone to take care of him because he was bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Just because I was bleeding," Rick stated as he entered the kitchen, "doesn't mean I was desperately in need of someone to take care of me."

"Well, Krypto certainly didn't agree." She cracked an egg into the bowl to the delight of Judith. "He made it pretty clear that he wasn't going to let you bleed all over the backseat of that car."

A yip accompanied that statement.

"Don't you help her," Rick told him. "She embellishes stuff just fine on her own."

"Doggie funny," Judith giggled.

"Doggie only _thinks_ he's funny." More yips and chuffs sounded. "I don't think I want to know what he's saying there."

"No, you don't." Raya smirked as Krypto thumped the floor with his tail. "Don't give me any of your crap or you won't get any pancake."

Grumbles greeted that threat. Not that she'd go through with it. She spoiled the wonder dog almost as much as Kai and Rose. Negan routinely complained about how much she catered to Krypto, calling him a dog and saying he needed to follow the rules like other dogs. _Like he doesn't sneak him treats or let him sleep on the bed or couch when I'm not around_...

"I'm still amazed that his fussing didn't bring any walkers to our location." A chuff came from Krypto. Rick glanced at him, smiling slightly. "He's saying he wasn't fussing, right?"

"No, he says he wouldn't have been fussing if you weren't being such a stubborn jerk."

Rick snorted and leaned down to brush a kiss to the top of Judith's head. "Jerk isn't what he said."

"No, but little ears don't need to hear that language, now do they?"

"No, they do not," he agreed before he glanced at the quietly percolating coffee pot. "Is that coffee?" He sniffed the air. "That's actual coffee I'm smelling?" He said it so hopefully that it caused her heart to twinge. "It's not that tea blend you kept in that small silver container at the bottom of your bag?"

"It's real coffee and not that tea stuff you hate with such a passion."

"I didn't hate it..."

Her dimples winked. "Well, I tend to recall your body threatening to up and leave you if it didn't get coffee at some point."

He chuckled as he moved to the counter to pour himself a cup.

"You have no idea how long it has been since we had things like coffee or even tea."

She reached over to set her hand on his shoulder.

"No, I do know," she told him quietly. "I know full well how hard it's getting out there supply wise. That's why me and mine have worked tirelessly to get crops planted and to raise livestock. The shelves are empty and people are hungry."

"Is that what Batman told you to do?" Carl asked. "To stay here and make a safe-zone for people? To help them with planting crops and stuff?"

"That's part of my job, yes," she said, nodding. "But he also tasked me with bringing our ways to the people. To teach them how to fight the monsters in the dark."

"Because you're not afraid of the monsters."

He said it with such confidence that it pained her to correct him.

"No, Carl. That's where you're wrong." She shifted Judith to her other hip and plugged in the hand mixer. "I am afraid of them."

 _Especially the one I left your father to avoid them meeting_ , she added silently. There was time to discuss the Joker later. For now, she'd set the Clown Prince to the back of her mind and make pancakes.

"But..." A frown puckered his brow as he struggled with hearing that someone like her was afraid. "You're Fen..."

"Even Batman is afraid of the monsters we tend to fight," she told him gently. "He's afraid of what they can do and who they can hurt. He's seen what true evil looks like."

 _And despite what you think, it's not Negan_ , she added silently. While what Negan had done was beyond abhorrent and something she'd take him to task for once she got back to the Sanctuary, it was nothing compared to what the Joker would do to them. Negan pummeled people with his baseball bat. _The Joker would consider that child's play_.

"Like what the Joker did to the second Robin."

One bit of comic lore that was almost completely factual in its portrayal. Most of the big events that happened in the comics were kept true to the events that occurred. Bruce's trip through the Omega Sanction, Superboy Prime punching a hole in time, and Jason's death was the most accurate. Most everything else had either been embellished on or retold to the point that the truth was no longer known to even them.

"Like he's done to every Robin," she corrected softly. "And to Batgirl, my uncle Jim, and hundreds of others. The Joker is the epitome of evil. A man who doesn't care about who he hurts."

 _Like four boys all your age that he tortured and murdered before hanging them on the fence at the Sanctuary as a message to me_. She didn't tell them about them, though. It was not an appropriate discussion for one. Nor was it the right time for another. _I will talk with Rick about it before I leave_ , she decided. _He needs to know in case the Joker comes here._

"Batman knows what the Joker is capable of."

"Yes, he does." She poured the oil and milk she'd mixed earlier with the water into the dry ingredients. "He's seen how far the Joker is willing to go to achieve his end goal. He channels that fear into action. Same as he taught me, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Robin to do. Fear rises. That was our first lesson."

And the one they all remembered when they found themselves struggling to go on.

"I thought the first lesson was about falling?"

"Why do we fall?" She moved the full bowl out of Judith's reach. "So we can rise."

"No," Carl denied. "You fall because someone pushes you."

"And we rise and push them back." She smiled at him. "Or in my case, if I can't push them back on my own, I call Batman and let him do it."

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" Rick asked lightly. "I mean, you're, uh, technically supposed to push them back yourself."

"Yeah," she quipped. "I must have been absent on the day that Batman taught the class on playing fair with bad guys."

Rick was about to say something else but pounding on his front door stopped him. Krypto leaped to his feet with a loud bark.

"Krypto, sh..." Krypto issued a long, low growl before he trotted from the kitchen. "We're not supposed to even be here, you, dopey mutt."

"Stay here with Carl and Judith," Rick ordered as he quickly followed the dog from the kitchen. "I'll go and see who it is."

"Rick..."

"Not up for debate," he told her as he exited the kitchen. "Just stay here."

She harrumphed.

"Fine."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has found you well!


	25. Twenty-Five

The pounding on the door grew louder and more insistent the closer he got to the front entrance. Whoever was outside was damn set on getting his attention. The question on Rick's mind as he made his way through the front room was: why? Nerves jangled as a cornucopia of answers for that question ran through his mind.

The logical answer was a horde of walkers gathering outside the gate. He passed a pack of undead as he returned to Alexandria with Michonne and the others earlier that morning. He had wanted to stop and take care of them but Michonne convinced him it'd be better to wait until they got some rest. _Goddamn it_ , he thought as more guilt settled atop the pile already turning his innards into knots. _I should have stopped and handled the sons of bitches when I had the chance._

Something, however, told him that a horde heading towards Alexandria wasn't why whoever was hammering at his door. _No_ , he realized as his mouth ran dry. _There is only one person who could cause this much ruckus_. The hair on the back of his neck trembled as he imagined pulling open the door to find Negan standing on his front porch, that bat slung over his shoulder, and that shit-eating grin spread across his whiskered face.

Dread and loathing mixed in his gut at the thought of having to deal with that smarmy-mouthed asshole again so soon. A week was too soon in his mind. Krypto lightly growled as the door groaned with the abuse it was taking. Rick was surprised whoever didn't just kick it inwards. That they didn't break the door down was the only thing keeping him relatively calm.

The same couldn't be said for the super dog. _It isn't a surprise that he's in full-on protect mode_ , he thought as he moved to the door. _His mistress is in the kitchen with my son and daughter_. Protecting them — especially Raya — was Krypto's sworn and sacred duty. Rick had seen for himself how far the super dog would go to protect those he decided were in his care.

A horde of walkers and a group of men with assault rifles hadn't convinced the dog to head for the hills. No, when Kryptosaw his family being threatened, he leaped into action, attacking the horde and the men with the weapons without any thought or concern for his own safety. There was no doubt in Rick's mind that he wouldn't do the same should Judith and Carl find themselves in trouble.

Having Krypto there, knowing he was keeping watch over his family helped ease some of his anxiety. For a moment, just one, everything felt normal. Not the normal the world adopted after the virus broke out, but the one that came before it. The one where he was a good, decent, and honest man trying to raise his son the best he could. In that world, he was still a law-abiding man who protected people without resorting to cold, calculated murder.

So real was his musing that Rick found himself believing that _this_ was his life and not everything that happened since he woke from his coma. _The last three years never happened_ , he decided. _Well_ , he amended as he spotted Raya's bow and quiver of arrows on top of a table by the door. _Most everything since I woke in the hospital didn't happen._

The virus breaking out, the world falling to pieces, and civilization being taken apart? That all happened. He couldn't wish that away no matter how hard he tried. It was the one constant that prevailed no matter how much any of them might wish otherwise.

Waking up and finding the hospital an abandoned war zone, meeting Morgan and his son, Raya, and her two kids? Those were also constants he didn't want to forget. For a moment, Rick allowed himself to consider how different things might have been had Raya never left him in that farmhouse outside Atlanta.

 _Well,_ he mused as he paused by the couch, _she'd definitely have helped me find Lori and Carl_. Until Luthor's men found them in that farmhouse she'd been dead set on helping him find his family. If those men hadn't shown up, if they hadn't spooked her, she'd have seen that promise through. They'd have made it to Atlanta, just as they intended. There they'd have met Glenn and the others on their supply run.

Glenn would then lead them to the quarry camp where Lori and Carl were staying with Shane, Carol, and Daryl. However, that was when he felt things would have gone quite differently from the way they had. Raya would have helped make sure people survived the nightmare the world became.

Everything she said to him earlier in his bedroom about teaching them how to survive without taking human lives, he believed. She'd stop him from compromising the man he was and show him — all of them — that there was a better way of doing things.

So many who died might be alive today had she been there.

Her mentor, a man he had never met and used to believe was only a comic book character, would have found a way — like he managed to do — to not only task her with building a safe zone for survivors but with teaching them how to survive no man's land. _I'd have helped her with her mission_ , he thought as Krypto chuffed softly. _I'll still help her. God knows I'll do whatever is necessary to see us — all of us — have a future._

He'd even work with that asshole if needs be.

There was only one flaw to if Raya stayed: he may not have met a number of the people he had. _Like Michonne_ , he realized with a pang. It was very possible they'd never have crossed her path.

Or Abraham, Rosita or Eugene's.

Sasha and Tyrese's.

The Greene's.

They'd also never have met the Governor, the Claimers or Gareth and his group of cannibals. If they'd have still met Negan was questionable. Rick fully believed they'd have ended up in Virginia. Would it have been Alexandria? The Hilltop? Or somewhere else entirely? He didn't know.

He also couldn't say for sure whether he would have given into the thoughts that had run through his head. Had he been tempted to say fuck it all and follow Raya to Gotham? Yes, he had been. Part of why she left him was as much because of the Joker as it was because of his temptation to abandon his search for Lori and Carl.

 _And she had been tempted to let me_.

That, more than anything else, was why she left him, he realized as Krypto sniffed the door. Raya didn't do complicated relationships. She admitted as much when they were traveling together. When a relationship got too difficult, she tended to run. _So, how is she handling her relationship with Negan, then_? That was what he didn't understand. She ran from him because things got complicated.

Yet, she stayed with a man who idled at complicated.

The pounding on his door brought him back to reality.

Everything that happened since he and Raya parted ways in Georgia, happened. There was no way of denying the truth or wishing away the facts. Lori was gone, Shane was gone, Hershel, Andrea, Beth, Tyreese, Abraham, and Glenn were all gone.

All of them dead because he made a decision that ultimately led to their demise. _And placed us at the mercy of a bat-wielding asshole._

"Rick!" Relief coursed through him when he heard Aaron shout. "Open up!"

"Hold on a second," he said as he reached for the knob. "Get back, Krypto."

Krypto complied with only a small _chuff_ in protest. Rick's earlier relief died when he saw the panic on Aaron's red, sweaty face soon as he opened the door.

A plethora of reasons for why he was in such an anxious state went through his mind. First and foremost was Neganwaiting at the gates. _It'd be just like that asshole to have lied about how long we'd have before he'd send men around for their first pick-up_.

Krypto issued a low growl but Rick quieted him by resting a hand on his head.

"What is it?" Concern made his tone sharper than he intended. He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "What's going on?"

"There's someone at the gate," Aaron told him in a voice not quite steady. "They're asking for you."

"Who is it?" He nudged Krypto back before the softly growling dog could step in front of him. "Do you know?"

"I don't know the man's name," Aaron replied. "But he's definitely one of Negan's men."

Krypto heaved a _chuff_ that he followed with a soft growl. Rick assumed it was an answer to his question. Not that he understood what the dog was saying. _Haven't cultivated that skill like Raya has_. Aaron glanced at Krypto with surprise before shifting his gaze back to Rick, one brow lifted in silent question.

"This is Krypto."

It was the only question out of the possible hundred that Aaron could ask that he had any idea about how to answer. _I'm gonna have to figure out answers for all the other questions that are gonna be tossed my way and fast_ , he realized as Krypto issued another soft yip. _I've not only got to explain how I know a woman with a connection to someone most people assume exists only in comic books or movies, but who also happens to have a place right at Negan's side._

Of the two, the last was gonna prove hardest to explain. He hadn't come to terms with the relationship between Raya and Negan. How could he expect the others, too? _Especially Maggie and Sasha_. He had no doubt that the two women would not take learning he was friends with the woman of the man responsible for Abraham and Glenn's death very well.

"When did you—?" Aaron started to ask but Rick cut him off. Not because he didn't want to hear what the man had to say but more because he was functioning on barely an hours sleep and didn't have the energy to handle everything.

"One of Negan's men is at the gate?" He pushed Krypto back with his foot and opened the door wider. "But not Negan?"

"No, Negan isn't with him," Aaron confirmed. "It's just that blonde man who had Daryl's crossbow."

Relief at hearing it was someone other than Negan did nothing to stop the mouthful of coffee in his belly from curdling. For a second he thought he'd end up spewing the bitter brew all over Aaron. He bore down, though, shoved the bile back and focused on the problem at hand.

"What the hell does he want?" He asked. "Did he say?"

"All he said is that he wants you to come to the gate."

"That's it?" Rick eyed him skeptically. "He just wants me to come to the gate?"

Something about that didn't seem... right. It seemed too simple, too unlike Negan. If the asshole sent this man, and Rick fully believed he had, why had he sent him alone? Where were his other men? For that matter, why hadn't he come himself?

 _What the hell's the asshole up too_?

"Well, he also said to tell you to bring some woman he called Fin to the gate with you."

 _Raya_ , he realized. _That's why the asshole is here. He's been told to retrieve her and take her back to the Sanctuary_. Anger and resentment tangled with the guilt and anxiety in his belly. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Aaron to go back and say that this Fin wasn't there. However, logic prevailed. Lying would do nothing but bring more consequences down on them. Rick couldn't allow that. He couldn't let anybody else pay for a decision he made. _Too many have paid as it is_...

"Rick?" Worry coated Aaron's voice. "What do you want me to tell him?"

"Uh," Rick started to say but he found himself cut off by Raya who had joined them without him realizing it.

"You can go back and tell Dwight know that I said to return to the Sanctuary and tell the jealous jack ass that I will return home when I'm damn good and ready." Krypto _yipped_ and moved to sit beside her. Rick glanced at her and saw her looking down at the dog. "No, a jealous jack ass is exactly what he is."

Aaron blinked his eyes at her.

" _You_?" He managed. " _You're_ Fin?"

"I am," she confirmed as she moved to stand beside him. "Yes."

Hearing her called by that name rankled even though Rick knew it shouldn't. It's just a name for chrissakes, he thought as Krypto wedged between them. _One of the likely dozen she goes by_.

If it was a name her family or friends called her would be one thing. He could accept any of them calling her y that name. It was the name _he_ called her, though. There was absolutely no way he'd ever use a name given to her by the man who savagely and brutally murdered Abraham and Glenn. _And god knows how many others._

"No," he bit out, surprising Aaron and her both. "Her name is not Fin. It's Raya."

A frown feathered Aaron's brow. "But..."

"I said it's Raya, goddamn it!"

Silence fell after his outburst. He could feel Raya and Aaron staring at him but couldn't bring himself to look at either one. Krypto whined and bumped his hand with his nose. Rick obliged his request for attention because he needed something to distract him from the shame and anger battling for supremacy at that moment. _What the hell is wrong with me_? He wondered as he felt Raya set a hand on his back. _Have I lost what little is left of my mind_? _Throwing a fit over a name. Yeah_ , he scoffed. _That's real fucking sane._

"You don't like the name Fin because it's what Negan calls me." Raya rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. "I understand that. I get it. However..."

"It's the name he gave you." He cut a look at her from over his shoulder. "And I won't use it."

"Negan didn't give me the name." She kept her tone light, soothing. "I gave it to him when I chose to go undercover inside his community."

"Still." Why he kept insisting on this, he didn't know. He just couldn't concede. No matter how much logic told him he should. "It's what he calls you."

"Rick." She slid her hand to his shoulder. "He doesn't know my name is Raya."

"Doesn't matter."

"Let's be..."

"It's not your name."

"When I'm with him, I'm Fin." A note of velvet steel underscored her words now. It was a reminder that for every inch of stubborn he was, she was equally so. "Same as I'm Raya when I'm with you, Kit when I'm with my brother, Jason or Mule when I'm with Tarzan."

The name Tarzan set off bells inside his head. She was traveling with a man she called Tarzan before he met her, he recalled as he stared at her. She was staying with him and his older brother in a survivor camp before it got overrun with walkers. Raya never called either by their given names. It was either Tarzan or Roger Swanson.

 _Is it possible that the moody, surly-tempered man with the crossbow is Daryl? And Roger Swanson his older brother, Merle?_

"Is Daryl the one you were traveling with before you met me?"

A smile confirmed his suspicions. "I was wondering when you'd finally connect the dots, Sheriff."

"Why do you call him Tarzan?" Aaron asked curiously.

"Can you think of a better name for that pigheaded, surly-tempered pain in the ass?"

"Not off the top of my head I can't," he admitted with a rueful smile. "Why Tarzan, though? It doesn't really fit him."

"Well, it was that or Rambo." Her eyes twinkled with a hint of that mischievousness that Rick had once been tempted by. "And since he absolutely hates being called Rambo..."

A slight smile curved Aaron's lips. "He agreed to Tarzan?"

"After a helluva lotta threats that we both knew was all talk."

That sounded a lot like Daryl, Rick realized as Krypto licked his palm. Unlike the white wonder dog who just slobbered all over his hand, Daryl's bark was much worse than his bite. Not that he couldn't back that bark up. Rick had found himself on the losing end of one of those bites more often than he liked.

"Where is Daryl?" He asked her. "Is he at the Sanctuary?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Why didn't you tell me where he was before now?"

"I wasn't trying to keep it from you." She made a face. "I meant to discuss it with you over breakfast actually."

"Just tell me that he's alright."

"Physically? He's fine. Mentally?" She shook her head. "I don't know. I haven't and won't be allowed anywhere near him."

"Why not?"

Not that he couldn't figure out why Negan would keep her as far away from Daryl as possible.

"Negan knows I will let him go." Her lips curved slightly. "He knows I've let others go."

That he allowed it struck Rick as unusual. _Why_? He found himself wondering. _Why has he allowed her to get away with things that he's punished others for?_ Before he could ask her, Aaron sighed and spoke.

"And he doesn't want you releasing Daryl because he's a way of keeping us in line."

"That is one reason." She moved to sit on the arm of the couch. "But he also wants to break him."

"Break him?" Aaron questioned. "Break him, how?"

Not that Rick didn't have a good idea for why Negan wanted to break a man like Daryl.

"He's got Tarzan in his version of isolation right now."

Rick translated what that meant with ease.

"Where is Daryl?"

"In a converted storage room that he calls the _Cell."_ Her gaze moved to the window. What she was looking at, Rick didn't know. Rick suspected it was something only she could see. Finally, she shifted her gaze back to him. Her face betrayed nothing and yet Rick knew that inside she was anything but calm. "It's the epitome of the Hole."

 _The Hole_ was a room with no lights, no windows, nothing but concrete walls and a cot. Many men broke down mentally after spending one night in such confinement. Rick couldn't imagine Daryl, even as strong-minded as he was, lasting longer than that.

"The _Cell_ is where he puts those that he wants to break."

"Daryl won't break."

"I have to believe that he won't," she said quietly. "And that he will understand why I have had to leave him in Negan's clutches."

"Because of Wilson?" Rick guessed. "Right?"

She blinked her eyes a couple of times, the only outward sign that he caught her by surprise.

"Yes." She nodded. "It's because of Slade Wilson." She made a face. "As much as I hate to admit it, the man who took him to the Sanctuary is right. Long as Negan has him, Slade's not able to get his hands on him. And," she added as she pushed to her feet, "long as Slade cannot get his hands on him or on you? He can't use either of you against me."

"Much as I'd like to ask about who this Slade person is," Aaron cut in, "we have a man at the gate that is threatening to bring Negan here if you don't come to the gate."

Raya harrumphed.

"I'm honestly surprised it's Dwight at the gate and not Negan."

"Why didn't he come?" Not that Rick wasn't grateful for the small reprieve. "Why did he send Dwight to retrieve you?"

"Probably because Slade Wilson is at the Sanctuary."

"Which means he can't come and get you."

"Either that or he sent Dwight to tell me to keep my cute lil' ass here until he comes to get me." She pushed to her feet and strode to him. "My guess? It's that one."

Rick grimaced.

"I was afraid it would be."

"I could be wrong," she said with a shrug, "and Dwight is here for another reason entirely."

He sent her a wry look. "Like I can get that lucky."

She reached up to pat his arm. "Let's try and be positive here."

"I am being positive." He set a hand on her back and gently nudged her out the door. "I'm absolutely positive that I'm going to have to deal with that asshole again before the end of the day."

"I promise to make him play nice."

"Right." He'd believe that when he saw it. "Let's go."

"Alright."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	26. Twenty-Six

Bruce didn't understand why he was so determined to reach Kit before the Joker could get his hands on her. He thought his reason was because he desired to kill the son of a bitch for all the pain and suffering he caused.

The old man wasn't entirely wrong in his assumption.

 _Unfortunately_ , he thought as he programmed his plane's autopilot to take over for a little while.

He did want to put a bullet in that pasty-faced clown. He wanted to put a dozen bullets in him. Was it all about him, though? About what the Clown Prince had done to him?

No.

 _Well_ , he amended silently. It wasn't _entirely_ about him.

It was mostly because the Joker was threatening everyone — man, woman, and child — within a hundred square mile radius for no reason other than to get a rise out of Kit.

 _And force her to call Batman_.

It was a game started after the Joker attempted to kill Tim — the acting Robin at the time — and Kit refused to call Batman so he could see what he had done.

Sixteen years ago, almost to the day, the Joker murdered Kit's husband, Ethan. He left his broken and battered body hanging on the chain link fence that surrounded the GCPD parking garage with a poem carved into the flesh of his chest and abdomen.

Jason had seen many sick and depraved things — most of them done by the Joker — but that took the cake. _I know how Ethan felt throughout every inch of that beating_ , he thought as his fingers curled around his armrest. _I remember every blow from that crowbar._

And every bit of the pain it left in its wake.

More than two decades might have passed since that ill-fated night, but the memories never faded. The only difference between what the Joker did to him and what was done to Ethan was that he detonated a bomb to finish him off.

Ethan was simply left to bleed to death.

It was a game intended to end with many more deaths and Bruce locked away inside Arkham with the rest of the crazies. How it was gonna play out changed the morning of Ethan's funeral, though. That was when Kit revealed a secret that left him flayed to the depths of his soul…

...

 **Gotham, sixteen years ago**

"I'm pregnant, Jason."

It took a couple of seconds for her words to register. At first, Jason believed the words were a creation of his sorrow and anger. When he finally realized she had spoken them, he whipped around to look at her. Kit wasn't looking at him, however. No, her gaze was slowly sweeping the fog-shrouded cemetery. _Looking at all the other people crowded around a freshly dug grave and mourning their own loved one._

"Pregnant?" He sounded just as dumb as he felt. "Did you say you're _pregnant_?"

He saw her nod. _Ah, goddamn it_ , was his only rational and clear thought at that moment. _A baby. She's having a baby._

"Did...?" he asked the question slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Did Ethan know?"

"About the baby?" She shook her head. "No."

"Kit…" Jason trailed off into a sigh. "How could you not tell him you're pregnant?"

"There was never a chance for me to tell him." She folded her arms around her middle. "Things just went crazy after Conner's death."

"You should've told him, Kit. He had a right to know he was gonna be a father."

"I know he did." She sent a look over her shoulder. "But I wanted to be absolutely sure that this time wasn't like all the other times where we got our hopes up only to have them dashed when the test came back negative."

 _The other times_ _when they thought they were expecting, and it turned out they weren't,_ Jason thought as he moved to set his hands on her shoulders. _The other times when they ended up with empty boxes of Kleenex instead of the kid they wanted._

He could understand her hesitation. Hell, who could blame her for not wanting to believe the impossible had finally happened?

Still, he couldn't help but ask one question.

"How could you keep something so important from him?"

"There just wasn't a good time to bring tell him about the baby," she said. "Not when the Joker started sending us invitations to what he called your _Deathiversary_."

"He's always playing some sort of game with us. This time is no different."

 _Liar_ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind. _This time is different, and you know it_. He ignored the voice. Kit, as well as the baby she carried, were far more important than his own melodrama.

"I know he is always playing a game with us..." She trailed off into a tiny sigh. "But there just never seemed like a good time to tell Ethan about the baby. Not with everything that was going on."

"Goddamn it, Kit..." he started, but she surprised him when she spun towards him.

"Don't you goddamn it, Kit, _me_ , Jason Todd!" she hissed in a low, emotionally charged voice. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Huh? _What_?"

"You should have told him he was gonna be a father!" Jason felt like a louse for losing his temper. It wasn't fair to yell at her. Not after everything she had been through. He didn't have any control over his rapid-fire mouth, though. "He had a..."

"Twenty cops and over three dozen civilians were barely cold in the ground when Dr. Thompkin's called me to confirm that I was pregnant."

It wasn't a growl. No, Kit just sounded exhausted. _She sounds more than tired_ , he realized, worry replacing his earlier burst of anger. She sounded _defeated_. And that, more than anything, scared him shitless.

"Kit…"

"It seemed like a really bad time to tell Ethan he was about to become a father," she said quietly. "He was mourning the loss of twenty close friends and a handful of people who couldn't get out of the Joker's way fast enough."

"What about after that?" He ached to pull her into his arms, to offer the comfort pride forbid her to ask him for. More than anything he wanted to lift away the sorrow rimming her eyes. "Why didn't you tell him about the baby after the Joker was caught and put back in Arkham?"

"What afterward, Jason?" The words came out wearily. "You mean one of those infrequent moments that was before the fights we were having? Or the ones that came between the bouts of silence that came after the fights?"

"You were fighting?"

Why hadn't any of them known about it?

"The last three months of our marriage he lived more at the GCPD than he did with me in our apartment."

Her body vibrated with a combination of grief and fatigue. She wouldn't lean on him, though. She'd stand on her own. _Stubborn as the old man_ …

"Why didn't you tell any of us that you and Ethan were having serious problems?" He steadied himself as she lifted those ravaged eyes to his. "Why didn't you come to me or any of the others for help?"

"You all had enough going on in your own lives. You didn't need my drama on top of yours."

"Kit..." He uttered her name before heaving a long, drawn-out sigh. "You have gotta be the most pig-headed and prideful woman I have ever met." His fingers gripped her upper arms in a gentle, but firm grip. "I'd have been there for you. No questions asked. Same as you've been there for me. You just had to reach out and ask."

"I know you would have been there if I asked. I know all of you would have been there had I asked."

"Why didn't you then?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe because you had just gotten your memories back..."

"So..." he gritted. "I still would have been there."

"You'd just barely survived your fight with Ra's and were dealing with your own issues. I didn't..."

"It doesn't matter, Kit," he interjected in a hard voice. "I'd still have been there for you."

"What's done is done." Her breath steamed the moist air. "I can't undo the past." No matter how much she might have wanted too. "All I can do now is move on and face the rest of my life without Ethan."

"Ethan would want you to go on," he agreed, running his hands up and down her arms to impart some warmth and comfort to her. "He would want you to find happiness again."

"He wanted us to get away from this city," she admitted in a whisper. "He wanted us to move somewhere where there were no psychopaths trying to kill us on a daily basis."

"That's why you were fighting? Because he wanted to move away from Gotham?"

"And because he wanted me to give up being Fenix."

Jason could understand, hell, he could empathize with Ethan. He wanted to protect his wife. However, the man didn't know Kit as well as he thought he did if he thought she'd willingly give up being Fenix. _She'll give up being Fenix when Bruce gives up being Batman_.

"What're you gonna do, Kit?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do." He smiled when she harrumphed. "You know what to do."

"I really don't know, Jason."

"Well, what would Ethan want you to do?"

Her brow puckered.

"Well, he'd want me to focus on the baby first and foremost."

"And?"

"And he'd want me to raise him or her somewhere far away from Gotham."

"Right." The thought of her leaving Gotham caused his gut to tighten but he ignored his discomfort. "So, where are you going to go?"

"I don't know." She frowned. "The Los Angeles police department has tried to recruit me. So has Atlanta and New York."

"Is police work what you wanna do?"

"Yes— no, I don't know." She shook her head, sighed. "I'd honestly prefer to work somewhere that would allow me to use all the skills I have acquired."

 _All_ being code for those skills she learned from Batman, as well as those she got while serving the GCPD as a criminal profiler.

"Not all cities are as open to having costumed heroes running around and saving the day," he pointed out. "Many view vigilantisms as criminal behavior."

"I know." Her lips curved slightly. More a grimace than a smile. "Dick found that out when he moved to Chicago for that short time."

"Where can you go then?"

"Well, the NCIS has offered me a position. And," she added as a light mist started to fall, "the FBI has wanted me to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit for years. I received a call from the director a few days ago, in fact."

"But is that what you want to do?" He stared at her intently. "Is profiling people like the Joker and Scarecrow what you want to keep doing?"

She shrugged. "It's what I am good at doing."

"But is it what you want to do?"

"No," she finally admitted. "It isn't."

"What do you want to do then, Kit?"

"I don't know. Not yet. But I will get it figured out, I promise." She leaned up, brushed her lips against his cheek. Held there a moment. "Promise that you'll take care of yourself, Jason. And please, _please_ ," she begged in a hoarse voice. "Get the hell out of this city before the Joker has a chance to get his hands on you."

"Kit…" Jason pulled her into a hard embrace. "Why are you so damn stubborn?"

"How am I being stubborn?"

"By refusing to let any of us take care of you."

"I don't want to be a burden."

He buried his nose into her hair, smelled the faint hint of the shampoo she used and was soothed by it.

"Alfie would sting your eardrums if he was here to hear you say that."

"Alfred has enough on his hands with Bruce. He doesn't need me and a new baby."

He let out a long, weary breath. "Then why don'tcha stay with me for a while? Or with Dickie and Timbo? At least until the bab..."

She cut him off with a shake of her head. "You have your own lives to live and don't need me or a baby underfoot." She leaned back to look at him. "And Tim has his hands full with restructuring the Titans."

"Jesus Christ, Kit," he said on one long breath. "You just buried your husband. And you're having a baby. You shouldn't be alone. Not now."

"Women have been having babies for centuries." She took his hands and squeezed them gently. "And many of them without husbands around to hold their hands during the delivery process."

"Most of 'em don't have sickos like the Scarecrow and the Joker stalking 'em."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be okay, Jason. I promise."

"Kit, at least stay at the Manor for a few days."

"No." She shook her head. "No, I need to leave here. Get as far away from Gotham as I can."

"Let me call Dickie, at least," he urged. "Get him to go with you."

"No, he's needed here to help with cleaning up the rest of the Joker's mess."

"Kit…"

"Jason, I'll be fine."

He went to say something; anything to try to convince her to either stay or let one of them go with her, but she stepped back, turned. A second later she sunk to the wet ground without uttering a sound. Jason spit out a curse and knelt beside her.

"Hold onto me, Kit."

She made no reply, just buried her face in the crook of his neck as she gently wept. Jason held her, vowing silently that the Joker would pay. Somehow, someway, he'd dispense justice.

 _His_ justice.

…

He took Kit to the Manor, despite her heated protests, figuring that Alfred would manage to convince her to stay there until her head was clearer.

Of course, he agreed to stay, as well, because Alfred pointedly reminded him how family, "always sticks together in times of tragedy."

Not like he could say no, anyway. Not when Kit needed someone to watch over her while the others handled the rest of whatever the Joker had planned.

They had no idea that night would be the one the Joker would choose to begin the last part of his plan. _We should have figured it out, though_ , he thought as he reclined his seat to get some shut-eye. _Hadn't Bruce repeatedly told us that we should expect the unexpected? Especially when someone like that pasty-faced freak is involved_?

It was a mistake that almost became as costly as the one other time he didn't expect the unexpected. He not only got to revisit that warehouse in Ethiopia, but he got to relive every moment in excruciating detail.

That night was about revenge. A righting of a perceived wrong. It was a game the Joker started playing after Batman took on Robin as his partner.

At first, he was content with merely terrorizing Robin.

That all changed when he realized Robin wasn't afraid of him. He couldn't traumatize him the same way he could other kids his age. Every time he did something to Robin, he came back stronger and better than before.

So, the Joker changed the game.

He decided that the best way to teach Robin a lesson was to get rid of him.

Of course, eliminating Robin served a dual purpose.

Kill Robin and you also struck at the heart of Batman.

Breaking Batman was that demented clown's ultimate goal. The point of the _game_ was to show the Dark Knight how he was no better than those he locked up. In the opinion of the Joker — who Jason tended to believe about as much as he believed the Earth orbited Pluto in reverse — Batman was just as insane as the rest of the crazies, he just tended to mask his insanity beneath a set of what the clown called, "pesky principles."

The two perceived the world according to differing points of view. The Joker found Batman's interpretation stale and boring, of course. The Clown Prince interpreted things through jokes and colorful displays of violence. _Why see the world in black and white when you could see it as a bunch of different colors_?

What better joke was there in proving that beneath Batman's rigid and righteous moral code there was a killer just waiting for the right moment to spring forth and unleash a torrent of urban violence upon a city coated in its moral nihilism.

However, when he failed to kill the first Robin, he decided to up the ante.

To make the stakes even higher.

He started by choosing _him_ to become the second Robin.

Jason freely admitted — to the disagreement of the rest of his family and teammates — that he should never have been made Robin. There was nothing about him that made him suitable for the role. He lacked the patience, the moral fiber, the restraint necessary.

His formative years were not spent in the same environment as Bruce and Dick. He didn't have a loving family to teach him right from wrong. He developed his own moral code.

He learned to survive on Gotham's streets by using his wits and his fists. Sure, he got his ass kicked more times than not, but he always gave as good as he got.

Stealing was the way of life on the streets. Medicine, food, he lifted whatever he and his mom needed. Boosting the tires off the Batmobile was insane, he readily acknowledged it was, but it was a means to an end for him.

A means that gave the Joker exactly what he wanted but he hadn't known that at the time. The tires would fetch enough money to pay the rent on their crummy apartment and put enough food on the table to last for a couple of days.

They ended up becoming his damnation. Nobody was surprised when he ended up getting himself killed. It was bound to happen whether he was Robin or not.

However, it almost achieved the Joker's goal of breaking Batman.

The only thing that stopped him from killing the Joker was a reminder about why Batman did not murder.

The person who issued that reminder?

The same woman who refused to call Batman when the Joker demanded it.

A decade later he'd seek his revenge, first by murdering Ethan, as well as a handful of others, and then by recreating the night that almost broke Batman the first time.

Only this time, it wasn't Batman who almost broke the Golden Rule.

It was Kit…

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Ethiopia, five years before outbreak**

A giggle that soon grew into a high-pitched cackle snapped Jason awake. He opened his eyes slowly, ready to see that pasty-faced son of a bitch leaning over him, a wide smile curving his lips, and a bloody crowbar in his hand but instead, he saw... _nothing_.

A flash of panic engulfed him. For a moment, he felt like his sixteen-year-old self. _Fell right into the clown's hands_ , he realized as the laughter trailed off into soft giggle once more. _Did exactly what the Joker expected of me. Just like I did when I raced off to save my mom rather than wait for Bruce to help me._

Calmness overtook him as he realized he wore a hood. _Certainly changes things from last time,_ he thought as paper rustled and the Joker cleared his throat. _Now, what's he doing? Reading off my list of crimes?_

They'd be here forever if that was the case.

"Here, Little Red Hood, here is a bullet and a gun; take them to the Big Guy, he is ill and weak, and you need to put him out of his misery..."

Jason didn't have to even think hard about the meaning of those words.

 _Kill, Bruce, you sick freak?_ he thought as anger filled him. _Don't think so_.

No matter how complicated his relationship with him, no matter how many times he failed him, no matter how often he found himself at odds with him, Bruce Wayne was still the only _real_ father he had.

It was Bruce who gave him a home, a family, a purpose. He believed in him when nobody else at the time would. If his options were to shoot Bruce or himself in the head, well, he'd gladly put the bullet through his own brain. If it meant protecting a member of his family, he'd gladly sacrifice himself. _Hell_ , _I've already died once_ , he reasoned. _Maybe get lucky this time and have it actually stick_.

'So, here we are,' he heard someone who sounded suspiciously like his sixteen-year-old self say next to his left ear. 'Once again at the mercy of the Clown Prince of Crime. Sure thought we were smarter than this, Jaybee.'

 _Hey,_ _the Joker's goon got the drop on me._

'Right,' younger Jason drawled. 'His goon got the drop on you.'

 _You see the size of that one-armed prick?_

'C'mon, you could have taken down that dude easily.'

 _Not while my head was ringing, and I was seeing three of him…_

'Look, you can keep telling yourself that why we got captured is 'cause Hammer got the drop on you,' young Jason said, all business now. 'But we both know the real reason is that you came after the Joker with a vengeance and a gun and no other plan than to kill him.'

Jason couldn't deny there wasn't truth in those words. He _had_ come after the Joker with a vengeance and a gun and no other plan in mind. His desire for justice blinded him, left him vulnerable to the Joker's trap, and kept him from doing what he should have: called the other birds for help.

 _What the hell do you want me to say here_? _That I'm an idiot? We both know I am._

The warehouse air felt warm and heavy against his chilled flesh. His fingers brushed something laying behind him. _A crowbar_ , he realized with a sinking feeling. Well, that certainly explained why every part of him throbbed like a bad tooth.

'You fell right into the Joker's clutches because you didn't want any of the birds to stop you from killing him.'

Again, Jason couldn't deny what his younger self was saying. He hadn't told any of the other birds about his plans because they'd have told the old man. He didn't want Batman showing up to stop him from doing what shoulda been done years ago.

 _Why the hell are you buggin' me, kid? Huh? What purpose do you have for being here and busting my balls?_

'I'm here 'cause someone needs to point out how you've gone and given the clown exactly what he wants.'

 _How am I giving the clown what he wants?_

'You gave the freak what he wanted the first time when we disobeyed Batman and came after our mom.'

 _We thought we were trying to save our mom_ , Jason pointed out. _Or have you forgotten about that?_

'And she sold us out to the clown.'

 _Can't deny we got the raw end of the parenting stick, kid._

'So did Kit. And I don't see her here trying to commit suicide masked as a crusade for justice.'

 _We've already died once at the clown's hands. It won't surprise anyone if we die again._

'Bruce hasn't ever gotten over what happened to us the first time.'

 _Right_ …

'What about Kit? You think us dying won't have an effect on her? Especially after what the Joker did to Ethan?'

 _Kit falling apart because of me dying?_ Jason snorted. _Get real, kid. She's got Dickie. She will be fine._

'She's not fine, Jaybee. She's nowhere near fine.'

Jason went to reply but white-hot pain radiated throughout every inch of his bruised and battered body. Pride, as well as his intensive training, kept him from crying out. He wasn't going to give the Joker the satisfaction of making a sound.

"The Princess," the Joker said. "Lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just as Little Red Hood entered the wood, he met a Knave. Now, little Red Hood did not know what a wicked creature the Knave was and so was not at all afraid of him..." The Joker's low, dark chuckle bounced on what few of Jason's nerves weren't already stretched taut. "Oh, and the little scamp should have been afraid. He should have been very, very afraid, indeed."

Jason wanted to wrap his fingers around the clown's scrawny neck and squeeze until the last breath left his body. His muscles bunched, quivered as he moved, rolled, tried to rock his body into an upright position.

It simply refused to heed his commands.

 _Or maybe,_ he realized as pain shot from the tips of his hair to the bottom of his feet, _my body is so broken that it simply cannot do what I want_.

Jason fell back with a soft groan, taking inventory of his physical state, and plotting how the events of the last time he was in this warehouse wouldn't end the same way. _I might die but you're coming with me, you sick freak_.

As he lay there, he became aware that the Joker was still reciting that damned nursery rhyme to him. Only, the words were different. Almost as if the clown was trying to tell him… _something_. But what? He found himself pondering while he listened as the clown spoke.

"The Knave thought to himself: 'What a pretty Princess - why she will be better to corrupt than the old man! I must act swiftly, so to snare her in my trap."

'Gee, wonder who the murdering psychopath is talking 'bout here.'

 _It's Kit. The son of a bitch has always called her his China doll_.

'She's his favorite toy next to Batman.'

 _'_ _Cause she's as incorruptible as the old man._

'Isn't that what he wants to do, though?'

 _What_?

"C'mon, now, Jaybee, what's he tried to make Batman do all these years?"

 _Kill him._

"And if he can't get Batman to kill him…"

Realization hurt worse than the pain cascading through his body.

 _He'll corrupt her..._

'And push her into…?'

 _Breaking the golden rule._

Jason heard slow clapping.

'Bout time you figured out what the clown has had planned this whole time.'

 _Kit won't break._

'How do you know she won't?'

 _Because she's just like Batman. She's even more fanatical about the rules than he is._

'Yes, but she just had her husband murdered by the Joker.'

 _She still won't break_ , Jason asserted. _She won't give the Joker the satisfaction of breaking._

'Like you swore that _you_ wouldn't give him the satisfaction?'

 _I never broke._

'Yes, you did. You broke even before we ended up here in this warehouse.'

 _How did I break_? he demanded, temper numbing his pain. _Huh? How did I break?_

'You let the Joker turn us into who we swore never to become: him.'

 _Bullshit_.

'You became everything that we stood against as Robin. You claimed you were cleaning up the streets by killing the weapons and drug dealers, triads and gangs, and even the human traffickers. You weren't. You were just doing the Joker's bidding.'

Jason didn't know what shocked him more: hearing the truth spoken aloud or realizing he had known it all along but somehow managed to convince himself otherwise.

 _How do you_...?

'Know about all that?' He heard a _ffff_. 'I'm you, doofus. Every memory you've got, I've got.'

Jason decided he had finally lost what tenuous grip he had upon his sanity.

 _I wasn't in a good place back then_ , he said in his own defense. _I'd been hauled up from hell, dumped back into my meat-suit, marinated in Ra's bath water, and then kicked out into the world._

'I'm not talking about our return from the dead thanks to Superboy Prick.'

 _Well, then what are you talking about?_

'See for yourself…'

 _What_ …?

His thoughts ended when he became an insubstantial mass. The black void crooned to him, embraced him in its sinewy arms. Jason could do nothing but float.

To where he did not know.

Jason had a feeling, though. He prayed with every fiber of his being he'd end wrong.

His descent into the abyss halted suddenly.

His head spun in a swirling, chaotic dance that caused his belly to turn over.

Suddenly, the world erupted in light.

An image that time and willpower hadn't allowed him to forget shot into his mind.

He saw his sixteen-year-old self trussed up like a turkey in the middle of the warehouse. Bruises and blood made his face almost recognizable. The black pool beneath him spread out across the dirty floor. The Joker stood over him, blood dripping from the crowbar he held in one hand, and a smile on his face.

Through the roaring in his ears, he heard the clown tell him to, "Be a good boy." Then he turned to leisurely stroll towards the exit. He paused once and said over his shoulder, "And hey, please, when you see the big guy..." A giggle prevented him from completing his statement. He quickly regained control, however. He couldn't leave without finishing his act. His lips peeled back in a smile that sent chills down Jason's spine. "Tell him I said… _hello!_ "

A howl, much like a wolf crying for its mate shattered the memory. Jason felt the smoke seeping into his fractured soul, soothing his anger and hate. Then came the blissful nothingness to wipe away the tears he didn't realize he shed.

'The Joker's actions here in this warehouse broke you. Made you a killer. And he's gonna do the same to Kit.' A pause. 'All because you couldn't reach out to the other birds. To Batman.'

Jason found he hated his younger self. Not because what he said was lies but because of the guilt the truth heaped on top of everything else running rampant through him.

 _I'm telling you that Kit won't break. She won't become the killer I did. She's stronger than I ever was._

'She has a breaking point, Jaybee. Like all of us. And she's lost Superboy and Ethan in the span of a few months. Now, she's gonna lose you. It's gonna be more than she can bear alone.'

He turned his head and found himself face-to-face with his younger self.

 _I won't let him break her,_ he vowed _. I'll kill him before I let him break her._

A smirk twisted his younger self's lips.

'How are you gonna kill him when he's got you tied up?'

 _I will find a way to get free. And when I do…_

'Too late.'

 _What? What's too late?_

His younger self placed a finger against his lips before murmuring, 'Listen...'

Jason held his breath while straining to hear whatever his other self had. It reached him, then, a smoky, sultry voice that crept through the walls of his consciousness and stilled the tempest inside him.

"And the Fenix stalked the Knave, playing his game of cat and mouse. And as he giggled and as he taunted, she circled, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And when at long last she grasped him by his throat…" There was a wet gasp and a breathless chuckle. "She squeezed with every bit of the strength she possessed..."

Jason's first thought as soon as he regained consciousness: _No_! Then it shifted to, _where's Bruce? Dickie? Timbo? Why aren't they stopping her?_ The answer slammed into Jason like a ton of bricks. _They don't know she came after me._

'No, they don't she left the Manor,' his younger self whispered in his ear. 'They don't know the Joker sent her your mask. That he told her where he was taking you and dared her to come after him.'

 _Bruce will figure it out. He will_ …

'You think the Joker didn't have a plan for how to keep Batman busy? C'mon, now, Jaybee, what has Bruce always told us to expect with the Joker?'

 _He's told us to expect everything._

'With the Joker, you don't assume anything. He doesn't play by any set of rules. His intention is one thing and one thing alone.'

'She isn't going to stop until the light goes out in the Joker's eyes.'

 _She will. She won't let the son of a bitch win. Not now, not ever._

'He pushed her to the brink when he killed Ethan. She's starting to break, Jaybee. And there's no Batman here to stop her. No Nightwing... no Red Robin.'

 _I'm here!_ He thundered as he struggled against the ropes. _I'll stop her! I'll pull her back before she breaks!_

'Better hurry then…'

"And she kept squeezing..." he heard her growl. "Waiting for the pasty-faced freak to breathe his last breath…"

Time was of the essence. He only had mere seconds to stop her from giving the clown what he wanted. Fear and adrenaline lent him strength. Even as white-hot agony streaked through him, nearly tossed him back into the dark abyss, he worked his hands free before bending to untie the ropes around his ankles. He reached up to rip off the hood covering his head before stumbling over to where Kit crouched over the writhing body of the Joker.

"Kit."

He half-expected to see madness swirling in the eyes she lifted to his. Instead, he saw her gaze was clear, calm and collected. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And she didn't care.

 _Shit_...

"Kit," he said as gently as he could. "I want you to let the Joker go."

"No."

Had he honestly expected her to meekly give in? She wouldn't be herself if she didn't put up at least a smidgen of a fight. Jason settled his hands on her shoulders, felt the muscles bunch beneath his palms, and knew she was wound tighter than a spring.

"Don't let him win, Kit." He squeezed her shoulders. "Don't let the sorry son of a bitch corrupt you as he did me."

"He's not corrupting me," she snapped. "I'm making this choice. _Me_! Of my own free will and volition!"

"Let him go."

"What you're asking me to do requires me to forget about everything he's ever done, and I cannot do that."

"He's hurt Batman, Nightwing, Double Red, your uncle, and cousin." He paused. "He killed your husband."

Her fingers tightened, and Jason saw the clown's eyes bulge. However, there was triumph and not fear in those twisted depths. _Clown knows he's winning,_ he realized. _He knows she's at the point of no return and is enjoying knowing he has finally pushed her to this extreme._

"He's hurt you, too."

"I know he has. Believe me, I know he's hurt me. But this isn't the way to make him pay for what he's done."

"I thought that if anybody would understand why I am doing this…" Her voice dropped an octave. "It'd be you."

"You think I don't understand, Kit? I do. Believe me, I do understand."

"Then why are you trying to stop me?"

"Because this isn't you."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

Her eyes narrowed. "I assure you that this is very much me."

"No, Kit, it's not you. Not the real you. It's just you reacting to everything that has happened."

"And who is the real me?" she demanded. "Huh? Who is the real me?"

"The real you is a woman with a moralistic code more rigid than even Batman's. Who treats loyalty like religion. That you won't let the Joker win. No more than she let her pops win."

She looked away but not before Jason saw the flashes of vulnerability and pain she couldn't mask.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted?" She spoke so softly that Jason had to struggle to hear her. "Isn't this what you've been holding over Batman's head for all these years? Isn't this the line you wanted him to cross?"

 _Shit, there's that eidetic memory of hers in action_ …

"Kit…"

"Didn't you say that if it had been Batman that he beat to a bloody pulp, that if it was Batman he'd taken from this world, that you would've done everything you could to find him and send him off to hell?"

 _Goddamn it_ , he silently said as he fell to his knees beside her. _Do you have to remember everything that I say to you?_

"Killing him turns you into me." He pulled her unresisting body into his arms, held her tight. "And I won't let you become the killer I am."

He felt more than heard her sigh. "Haven't you been paying attention all these years?" She turned her head to look at him. "I am you. I've always been you."

"No," he denied. "You're the best of me."

She was silent just long enough for him to draw a semi-decent breath.

"He asked me to help you."

"Who?"

"Batman." Her whisper was a moist breath that chilled his feverish flesh. "He told me you were the boy he failed to protect but hoped would be the man I'd manage to save."

"You did save me, Kit."

"Did I save you?" A shiver snaked through her. "Did I really?"

She was tottering on that ledge. One small push was all it would take to send her tumbling into that abyss. He had one card left to play and hoped it'd be the one to pull her back the rest of the way.

"Isn't it Fenix's job to bring Robin home?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	28. Twenty-Eight

The reaction he got wasn't the one he anticipated receiving. The moan ripped from her was the kind an animal in horrific pain made. Jason's heart throbbed as the sound poured over him, into him.

 _Shit_ , he thought as her head and shoulders drooped. Fixing a piece of broken machinery or a weapon he could do. How the hell did one fix someone crumbling from years of torture and trauma? _Haven't found a way to deal with my bullshit_ , he realized as a shudder snaked through her into him.

"I failed you."

He had to strain to hear her, her voice was so low. "What?"

"I failed you," she said, an inch higher but still below that of a whisper. "I failed Batman."

"How?"

"I didn't stop the Joker from killing Robin."

"That night was the night I created my greatest masterpiece, princess!" The Joker gurgled a laugh. "Gotta admit it put a smile on my face!"

"Shut up! You just shut up!"

"Aw, what'sa matter, toots? Joke not funny enough for you?"

She pressed down on the Joker's windpipe. Jason heard him choke and gasp and knew he had one second to keep her from sending the Joker to where he belonged.

"Kit, you saved me when you yanked my head outta my ass."

"I didn't save you..." She rest her forehead against his. "If I'd just stayed in Gotham..."

"Then you'd be dead," he grated out harshly. "And then where'd my happy ass be? Still end up in a coffin thanks to the Joker, still get resurrected by that Kryptonian prick, still find myself tossed into Ra's bathtub with him, still be fighting with the family, and still trying to set the world ablaze for what this pasty-faced freak did to me." He cupped her chin and gently lifted her head. "I'd still be out there and doing everything wrong if it weren't for you fighting me every step of the way."

"I just wanted you to see the man you are and not the one you think the Joker made you." He wiped away the tear that rolled down her ashen cheek with his thumb. "I just wanted you to see beneath all that anger and hatred swimming around inside of you to the man you could be if you'd just try. I wanted you to be the man Batman has never given up on, no matter what you said or did. That's why I asked you to try."

"I'm a better man than I might have been had you not asked me to try, Kit."

"It wasn't enough, though."

"Yes, it was."

"No," she said. "It wasn't. Nothing I do is ever good enough."

The raw pain in her voice, on her face, crawled into Jason's belly and slowly twisted him into one solid knot of hurt. Seeing this woman so naked and vulnerable felt worse than the blows from that crowbar. He could defend himself against the physical blows. There was nothing to stop the emotional whip lashing at his soul.

The Joker gurgled and managed to gasp out, "you're certainly good enough tonight, lambkins!"

"Shut up," he snarled at him. "Or I will put a bullet in you myself."

"Always were the party po..." his words ended on a choking sound.

"C'mon, Kit," Jason pleaded with her. "Let'm go."

"No."

 _Really should give up on her just agreeing with what I want her to do_...

"He's not worth your soul."

"He deserves what I'm going to do to him."

"Kit," he said as he rubbed her quivering arms with palms made just a bit damp by fear. " _He_ ain't worth it."

"After everything he's done, all the people he's hurt, the families he's destroyed, he deserves death." The words whistled out from between her teeth. "It's the fitting end for the Clown Prince of Crime."

"Not at your hands."

"He deserves death..." she insisted. "It's the lasting, and most fitting justice for one who has hurt as many people as he has."

"And death'll claim the son of a bitch soon enough," he assured her. "But it won't be tonight, and it won't be you delivering it to him. Do you hear me?"

"Why are you stopping me from killing him?"

"Because I won't let him turn you into the killer he turned me into."

He could tell her resolve was weakening when her grip upon the freak's throat loosened.

"I thought..." She swallowed back a sob. "I thought this was what you wanted? I thought you wanted one of us to finally step over the line, break the golden rule?"

"As much as I want to see justice meted out for the thousands who have suffered at the Joker's hands, I care about _you_ more. I don't want to see you fall from grace. My black soul ain't worth your damnation."

"I can fall once," she told him, her tone a nearly conspiratorial one. Jason shook his head, a heated denial springing to his lips, but she continued on in a heated rush. "I can. I can fall once. It'll be okay. Nobody will blame me for eliminating the world of this bastard."

"Aww, babykins," the Joker wheezed. "Always knew you really loved your ole Uncle J."

"Shut up..." Jason snarled at him. "Do you hear me? You shut the hell up!"

The Joker's lips curved into a predatory smile. That he was enjoying this situation, that he was deriving a sick pleasure from watching her teeter back and forth, sickened Jason. He nearly reached for the snub-nosed pistol lying by her left knee, more than half-tempted to put a bullet in the clown to spare the woman trembling in his arms. The only thing that stopped him was the woman he was trying to keep from taking the plunge he had.

"I'll be forgiven for my sin," he heard her whisper. "I'll be absolved of it."

"Kit..."

"Uncle Jim will understand why I did it," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. Jason knew she'd heard every word but was spiraling too fast to stop now.

"No cop will arrest me, and no court would even think to convict me. Even Robin would say I am justified in killing him. Course..." The words toppled out of her mouth one after another. "Robin would say I am doing what is necessary. That I am merely cleansing the world of evil."

"You'll become him, Kit." Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't going to convince her to stop. "You'll become the monster that he is. Don't give him that satisfaction."

"A day hasn't gone by when I haven't thought about subjecting this sick, demented son of a bitch to the most painful torture techniques I can think of..." she whispered. "I've thought of hundreds of ways that I'd kill him if I had the opportunity."

"Just warming my heart here, toots!"

Jason slammed a fist into the clown's thigh. "Be quiet or I will end you myself!"

"Promises, promises," the Joker muttered in a petulant voice.

"The slate'll be wiped clean. The stain'll be removed, and justice obtained for all those he has hurt with his evil. All it requires is a small sacrifice. Let me be the sacrifice. Let me kill him and end his masochistic reign once and for all."

"No, Kit," he breathed out on a tortured sound. "No."

"Please, let me do this," she begged even as the Joker sputtered and coughed. "Let me be the hammer of justice. Let me end this as the law cannot... as Batman will not."

Jason felt his lungs freeze. Every breath he took, hurt. He bled from the myriad of cuts that her willingness to sacrifice herself to end the Joker's reign of terror carved into his heart.

He could not let her do it.

He would not let her damn herself for all eternity just to get the justice denied to him and so many others for such a long time.

She was reason and authority. She was truth and justice. She was intellect, pride, and passion. She was the light inside the darkness, the quiet within the madness.

She was Fenix.

And it was time to remind her of that fact.

"Why do we fall, Kit?" It was the same question Bruce asked him way back when he started on the path to becoming Robin. If the words tasted bitter, he didn't care. He said them anyway. And he'd keep saying them until she let the Joker go. "Why do we fall?"

"So we can learn to get back up," she automatically replied. "To dust ourselves off and try again."

 _Ah, ever the good lil' soldier_ , he thought with a faint smile. _The fledgling who always has the right answer._

Where Dick was the best acrobat, Tim the junior detective, the demon brat the skilled warrior, and he the weapons expert, Kit was the scholar. It was that rational part of her he needed to reach now if he wanted to stop her from giving the Joker what he wanted.

"That's not all that Batman taught us." Her red-rimmed eyes lifted to his, shimmering with the volatility of emotions throbbing deep down inside of him. "Think, Kit! What else did Batman teach us to do when we fall?"

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you do." He framed her face with his free hand, brushing away the tears that cascaded over her mask with his thumb. "Now, tell me… why do we fall?"

"I…" She sniffled as she shook her head. "I… can't remember."

"What did he teach us, Kit? C'mon now." He gave her a lopsided grin that tore golf-ball sized holes in his soul. "We both know that you're a better student than me. Prove it to me here now. Tell me what he taught us about falling."

"He taught us to get back up," she murmured after several seconds of tense silence. "To stand our ground, to never surrender... to never give up. Not even when we're facing what seem like the most insurmountable odds."

"He also taught us that we fall become someone pushes us." He heard her whisper his name and felt hope soar. She wasn't gone. Not yet. "He taught us that we get back up so tha-"

"... we can push back against them harder and stronger," she finished for him. She sucked in a breath, let it out slowly. "Yes, yes, I remember."

Silence fell in the warehouse. The only ambient sound was the Joker's harsh breathing.

"What are you gonna do?" Jason asked her quietly. "Are you gonna get up and push him back? Or are you gonna fall as he wants you too?"

"What are ya going to do, babykins?" the Joker wheezed. "Hurry up and tell us because the suspense is positively _killing_ me!"

"Shut up," she hissed at the cackling clown. "You shut up!"

"Push back, Kit. Don't let the Joker win. Don't let him beat you. Don't give him the satisfaction of winning."

"I know that is what I'm supposed to do," she said softly. "I know I'm supposed to push back, to be better than the Joker, to rise above what he's done to you, Ethan, all those other people. But..." She stared down at where the Joker gurgled and gasped on the floor. A frown feathered her brow. Almost as if she couldn't believe that she actually had him in her grasp. "I don't have the power to stop myself," she finally admitted quietly. Too quietly for Jason's comfort. "Not this time. In fact..." A shadow crept over her face that had fear dancing in his gut. "I don't _want_ to stop this time."

"'What it lies in our power to do'," he quoted the words without even knowing how exactly he knew them. Or why. "'It lies in our power not to do'."

"You appeal to my logical mind by quoting Aristotle." Her lips quirked. "That's not your usual modus operandi. Where's my guns blazin', balls to the wall, Red Hood? Where is the man of moral ambiguity, who wants to clean up the streets of Gotham by whatever means necessary?"

 _Yup, asshole, this woman knows you the best,_ he heard his younger self say in his head. _And yet,_ you _completely went behind her back to confront the Joker all by your little self without once thinking she'd figure out where he took you and come to get you._

Jason wanted to go back in time just so he could beat the shit out of his younger self. How Bruce managed to not clobber him more often for his smart mouth mystified him. _Owe the old man a lotta credit for not busting me in the chops for the shit I'd say while on patrol._

He shook off his internal desire to smack his teenage self and focused on the woman so perilously close to doing what they had all dreamed of doing at one time or another.

"I'll do whatever is necessary to pull you back from the brink you've got yourself perched on, Kit. I'm not losing you to him. I'm not, you hear me?"

"Do you know that I read _The Basic Works of Aristotle_ to you while you were in your coma?" She snorted a laugh. "Yup, I read you the entire book while we treated you for the acid burns from his toxin, praying the whole time that the damage to your face was only superficial and that you'd wake up to yank the book outta my hands and bitch about how I was trying to instill all of Batman's ideals in you." She sniffled. "It was the only thing I could think to do while I waited for you to wake up." The holes in his soul got sliced wider with every tear that covered his fingers. "I never imagined you'd use the values I was trying to plant in your subconscious against me."

 _Well_ , Jason thought with a slight smirk twisting his lips. _At least now I know why this shit is in my head_. That she had chosen to sit at his bedside the entire time he fought off the clown's toxin did not surprise him. Nor was he overly amazed to find out she read Aristotle to him. Using his unconscious state to plant Batman's ideals about tempering justice through compassion was something totally up this woman's alley.

"Of course," he heard her saying, "Batman would have selected a quote like, 'I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self' to remind me about how I might want to give in to temptation, I know inside my heart that I cannot." She gave him a small, tight smile. "Then he'd lecture me about how giving into my desire will only let the darkness in. And that once I let it in, it will take me down into that twisted little world in which the Joker lives. A world from which I'll never be able to come back from once I enter it."

"I'm not Batman," he taunted. "And I am not gonna lecture you about being fixated upon his antiquated sense of morality."

When she didn't rise to his bait, he knew the sands in the hourglass had run out. He had maybe seconds left to stop her from becoming a cold-blooded murderer.

"Kit." He brushed her hair from her face, placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I wanna remind you about one thing."

"What?"

"'Moral excellence comes about as a result of habit. We become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by doing brave acts'." Because he wanted her to look at him, he cupped her chin, lifted it. "And, lemme tell you something," he told her seriously now. "You are the justest, most loyal and bravest woman I know."

"Hood..." she said slowly, carefully. Every word well-modulated. Even her face was kept neutrally, carefully blank. "Our world is screwed up. It's screwed up because of monsters like the Joker."

"There will always be monsters in this world," he told her. "And there will always be heroes like Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman to stop them."

"So, why does it matter if I fall from grace? Who is really gonna care if I break the one golden rule and rid the world of one piece of garbage?"

"Aw," the clown croaked. "I'm gettin' all warm and fuzzy here."

They ignored him.

"It matters to me," he grated out from between his teeth. "It matters to me whether you break the one golden rule or not."

"Why?" She didn't growl it. No, Kit just sounded like one weary, traumatized woman. "Why can't I break it when you've been busting his ass for not breaking it all these years?"

"I know the world is more than messed up right now." That was the understatement of the millennia, he realized. However, he pushed on, sensing he was close to a breakthrough. "I know we've lost family and friends. We've been taken to the brink and almost been pushed off that cliff."

"Sometimes," the Joker wheezed and puffed, "all it takes is a little push!"

Jason ignored him.

"I know that it all seems pointless, hopeless at the moment," he told her. "It's not. And I know that you probably feel alone right now…"

"I am alone."

"No, you aren't. Not so long as you have me, Batman, Wing, Red, and the Robin from Hell." His thumb traced her cheek. "You aren't alone, Kit. We're here. We'll always be here."

He watched her eyes and knew when they went soft that he'd broken through to her. He'd pulled her back before she could fall into that never-ending hell he'd been in until she'd pulled him back.

"Damn you," she moaned. "Goddamn you. Why are you doing this to me?"

He managed to work up a smirk.

"Consider it payback for all those times you've done it to me."

She let out a sound that was a half-laugh, half-sob. Jason slid his fingers to the back of her neck, rubbed the tense muscles in a slow, soothing circle.

"C'mon," he cajoled softly. "Let'm go. Please? For me?" She hesitated for another minute. Then she tore her hands away from the Joker's throat without making a sound. Jason caught her when she launched herself against him and held on tight. "It's okay," he said into her hair. "I've got you now. I've got you."

"Aww... I'm disappointed in you, lambkins." The Joker coughed, twice, then grinned maliciously. "Really thought you were gonna do it this time."

Kit growled and went to reach for him, but Jason slid his fingers into the springy coils of her hair and extracted one of the darts she hid behind her ear for p purposes. Before she or the Joker knew what he was about he plunged it into the clown's thigh, snarling, "Take a nap, you son of a bitch."

…

 _Bruce wonders why I'm hellbent on reaching Kit before the Joker can get his hands on her_ , Jason thought as the memory faded. _Well, that's why._

It wasn't simply because he desired to kill the son of a bitch for all the pain and suffering he caused.

No, it was because he wanted to keep the Clown Prince from pushing her into killing him.

 _Or him from killing her._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	29. Twenty-Nine

The carbon-fiber brace he asked Lucius about arrived at Wayne Manor before he and Alfred finished their daily rounds. Bruce debated waiting until Dick left on patrol that evening before trying the orthotic out.

He quickly dismissed the idea.

Waiting was simply ridiculous.

He couldn't afford to waste any time. Not now that he knew the Joker was alive, in Virginia, and hunting people with the intention of creating a Jokerfied army of undead.

 _Dick might not approve of my decision to take up the cowl and go after the Joker_ , he rationalized as he carried the case down into the cave, _but it's my decision to do so_.

He justified his decision to put the cowl on again, to go back out there, and face the Joker in one final showdown by claiming it as a necessity.

He was doing all this because it was the Clown Prince.

Because he was threatening Dick and the rest of the family to bring him out of retirement.

Dick would get over his reticence soon enough.

If he didn't... well, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't force him to change his mind.

He gave up on trying to make Dick _do_ anything years ago. Ordering his oldest son to do something only led to them getting into a fight and one of them — typically him — refusing to talk to the other for a short period of time.

He couldn't allow that to happen.

Not this time.

 _Dick has to accept why I am doing this on his own_ , he thought as he set the brace on the bench next to him. _He has to remember that when it comes to the Joker that it's all players on the field regardless of infirmity or illness_.

Stopping him and putting an end to his brand of chaos would need them all working together.

Only Alfred and the bats roosting high overhead in the jagged sharp stalactites bore witness to his test-run with the brace. He had gotten maybe a few hours of real sleep in the last few days, but there was no way he was going to take time out for a nap.

Not when he was close to being back to himself.

Besides, passing the cowl down to Dick didn't mean he abandoned his training regimen.

Far from it.

He modified his workout regime, accounting for the limitations of his damaged knee, and supplemented by adding in other exercises and stretches to keep himself in peak condition.

Going without sleep was something he trained himself to do in the early days of his career. Some of the cases he worked demanded he not stop to rest. Three hours sleep for him was equal to ten hours for most other people.

Even now he could go seventy-two hours without needing sleep.

 _Until I stop whatever the Joker has planned, I can't afford to know those limits that Alfred likes to keep reminding me about_.

"Master Bruce, are you sure this is wise?"

 _And here we go_ , he thought, more amused than annoyed. He'd be worried if Alfred didn't voice objections, though.

"We've been over this," he said. "A number of times now."

"Yes, sir, we have been over you knowing the limits."

"Batman doesn't have any limits."

"Batman doesn't," Alfred agreed. "But _you_ do."

"Do I?" He glanced up at him. "Do I have limits?"

"Yes, sir, you do. You're mortal... much as you like to think otherwise. You have physical limits that Miss Prince or Mister Kent do not."

"I've never let my limitations as a human stop me, Alfred."

"You were younger then," Alfred pointed out. "And could heal quicker."

"I'm not an old man," he said dryly. "Not yet."

"But you are still taking a great risk."

"I don't have a choice."

"Yes, sir, you do. You can leave the Joker to Masters; Dick, Tim, and Jason."

"Stopping him this time will need all of us working together, Alfred."

A frown wrinkled the older man's brow. "Why do you believe that this time is any different from any of the other times?"

"Because I feel that the Joker has something more planned."

"More, sir?"

Bruce nodded. "Much more."

"How much more?" Frustration sizzled in every word. "What else could the maniacal fiend have planned?"

"He plans on releasing a Jokerfied army on the world for starters." He reached for the brace. "Then? I suspect he will go after a member of the family in one final push to get me to break the golden rule."

"Hasn't he tormented this family enough?"

Bruce asked himself that same question every time the Joker surfaced to play a new game with him or a member of the family.

"Until the Joker is stopped for good he will never be finished with tormenting this family."

"The only way that the Joker will ever be truly stopped is if someone kills him." Alfred shook his head. "And that is not a line that you or any member of this family can ever cross."

"I know that, Alfred."

He chose not to tell him that it was a line that he believed the Joker hoped to push one of them into crossing as his final act. _He's almost pushed all of us into crossing that line_ , he thought as he fit the brace to his left leg.

Dick came the closest to actually giving him what he wanted. _For a few seconds, the Joker was dead_ , he recalled as he ensured the brace was in place before pressing the blinking button on the brace's side. Had he not gotten there to resuscitate him when he did... _Well_ , _the world might be better off_ , he concluded silently.

Bruce told Jason repeatedly how it'd be easy, so easy, for him to cross that line and end the Joker's life. To make him pay for all the evil he'd done. _That's why I can't do it. That's why I have to stay true to myself, and to them, to what I taught them._

They had to set the example for the rest of the world to follow.

He pressed the blinking button with his thumb and held his breath as he waited for the brace to respond. The pivoted orthotic responded instantly, tightening around the joint, but not uncomfortably so. A thin layer of padding separated his knee from the brace, cushioning it.

Bruce slowly pushed to his feet. _So far so good_ , he decided, bolstered by the lack of pain and unsteadiness that plagued him for these many months.

He worked the knee, being cautious. He didn't want to push it too far in the first few seconds of use. The joint felt stiff and awkward. _As it should after so many months of limited use_ , he reasoned as he took a few cautious steps. Some minor twinges traveler upwards from the knee into his thigh and hip, but it was tolerable.

He walked in a slow circle before attempting some deep bends and stretches. It took a few moments of repetitive motion, but the brace finally started to move with him.

 _This is more than promising_ , he thought, turning as Alfred set a cup of tea on the bench. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Don't you have the brace on the wrong leg, sir?" he questioned as he studied the orthotic. "Is it not your other knee that needs the support?"

"It is, yes. However, you need to start with the knee that is healthy." He moved towards the bench, taking each step cautiously, and counting each one that didn't force him to reach for his cane as a success. "That way the brace can learn your optimum muscle patterns and apply them to the weaker joint."

"Not that your left knee is all that better than the right."

"It's healthier than the right." He sat and shifted the brace to his bad knee. "That's what's matters."

"If you say so, Master Bruce." Alfred poured himself a cup of tea before taking a seat on one of the other benches. "I, personally, would have heeded Dr. Thompkins advice."

"I can't do that, Alfred," he told him for what felt like the millionth time. "Not when the Joker is out there and murdering people."

"The others can handle the Joker, sir."

"He's killings boys, Alfred." He kept his tone carefully, neutrally blank. The rage boiling beneath his skin was a different matter altogether. Nothing would staunch that. He glanced at Alfred. "He's been killing boys who are the same age as Jason, Dick, and Tim were when he tried to kill them and posing them as he did Detective Tate."

 _Selina only revealed that bit of information after goading me about the condition of my knee._

"Good heavens," Alfred whispered, blanching. "He's not..."

"Trying to recreate their deaths?" Bruce nodded. "Yes, he is. He's also leaving poems in their flesh that are aimed directly at Raya."

Alfred made no reply to that. Not that Bruce expected one. The gravity of the situation explained his urgency in getting back out there.

He was the one the Joker wanted.

 _And have me he will_ , he decided, fingers gripping the wood bench so tightly he heard the knuckles pop.

He rose cautiously, putting his weight on his bad knee, and grunted in satisfaction when the reinforced leg appeared to support his weight.

He bent slowly, then rose.

Nothing.

He repeated the process, feeling more confident and in control than he had in a long time.

He tried a low kick. The knee throbbed but it was a tolerable pain and not the kind that would have left him screaming on the floor of the cave in frustration.

A rare smile lifted his lips. The brace was working. No, it wasn't perfect. He was far from ready to don the suit and go back out there after criminals.

It was a start, though.

Excitement hummed in his veins.

That fire burned in his belly.

He felt like _himself_ again.

"What now, sir?"

"Now," he said as he again sat on the bench. "I tighten the brace."

"Are you certain that is wise?" Worry coated Alfred's voice. "Perhaps you should work with the knee some more before you tighten the brace."

"No," he said. "I need to tighten it up."

Alfred sighed but remained quiet. _Thankfully_ , he thought as he bent to press the button and tighten the brace. He heard a _click_ before the orthotic contracted against his leg.

The carbon fibers dug into his flesh and applied increased pressure on the joint. He swallowed a curse and gritted his teeth as pain radiated into his thigh and down into his foot. He couldn't back down, though.

Not when he was so close to his goal.

"Is the brace causing you more than mild discomfort, sir?"

He shot a mildly amused look at him.

"You're welcome to try it for yourself, Alfred."

"I shall leave the torture to you, Master Bruce." His mouth curved slightly. "Since you seem to enjoy it."

Bruce grunted as the brace clicked one more time. It took a moment for him to get used to the discomfort the new level caused.

Once he was sure he could stand without the knee buckling and sending him to the floor, he got to his feet. Despite the increased pain that shot out from the joint, the leg itself felt strong.

He took a few careful steps as Alfred watched.

A training bag stood a few feet away. Feeling daring, Bruce spun and delivered a furious roundhouse kick to it. The bag swung crazily on its chain, startling the bats overhead. Many screeched and protested the sudden disruption of their nap by flapping wildly among the stalactites.

Bruce turned towards Alfred, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

"I think this brace is the answer I have been searching for."

Alfred was less than enthusiastic at those words. Bruce understood that he didn't believe the brace was the answer he spent the last year searching for. It wasn't the best solution to the problem. He admitted that. However, it was the best one he had.

 _He will come around_ , he thought. _Like Dick, he will see that this is for the best. That it's the only way for me to stop the Joker before he hurts someone close to us_.

"Master Bruce, if you're truly considering going back out there, then I want you to make me one concession."

"That is?"

"Take Master Richard with you." Alfred set his cup aside and stood. "You and he have always been the strongest when you're working together."

Bruce shook his head. Taking Dick with him was the last thing he could do.

"Dick is needed here in Gotham." _He has a wife and son to take care of_ , he added silently. Aloud though, he said, "I won't leave the city unprotected."

"Gotham will be protected," Diana said from behind him. How long she had been there, he didn't know. That she didn't sound happy with him was clear by her tone. She will come around, he thought as he turned. She stood with her arms crossed and a militant expression he knew all too well on her face. Before he could say anything, she added, "Black Bat is here, as are Batwing, and Batwoman. Plus, I will stay and help protect the city."

"And I'm still here and acting police commissioner," Gordon added as he joined Diana. "So, you go and do whatever to put that animal in a cage. We'll take care of things here."

And that, Bruce realized, was that.

...

The little lovely couldn't be bothered to come and find the present he left for her? _Well, she won't be able to miss this one_! he thought as he stole into the bedroom she shared with the Big Lug complete with his extra special delivery slung over one shoulder.

Finding a boy just the right age and physical proportion proven difficult given how limited his shopping time, but that's what made him the most absolutely _perfect_ present for someone of the caliber of Batsy's precious Fenix.

Sure, capturing him took a bit more doing than all the others, and yes, it required a smidge more creative finagling on his part, but what did it matter when the effort paid off!

He giggled as he laid the tyke in the middle of the great big bed the princess slept in.

And he cried as he giggled.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and pooled in the cracks and crevices of his mouth. They streaked the makeup he used to cover up his scars and pale complexion, but he counted the aggravation worth it.

He dropped the bag he brought with him as his glee doubled him over. His soft chuckles bounced off the walls and stirred the shadows playing peek-a-boo in the corners.

When he finally regained control of himself, he set about folding the boy's little hands over his heart, straightened his legs so his tiny toes pointed up at the ceiling, and smoothed his half-mask back into place.

How could he be Robin without that fetching little mask?

Once he finished, he stood back to admire his work. The little scamp laid there quietly, his pretty green eyes closed in sleep, and a little smile curving his fleshy lips.

 _He looks just like an angel_ , he decided as he planted his fists on his hips. His darling cape spread out beneath him like latex wings. He found himself tempted to stop and say a prayer.

 _Almost_ , he thought as he giggled again.

He wasn't the praying sort, though.

No, he was more of an artist. He viewed his artwork as a way to enable people to find themselves and lose themselves at the same time. _We're all a little mad_ , he thought as he reached into his bag and removed the other items he brought. _We might as well embrace our madness!_

He set to work, throwing rose petals all around the room, setting out scented candles, placing a plate with bat-shaped cookies on the table with a bottle of bubbly, and placing a picture book filled with a slew of his favorite memories on the nightstand.

This plan of his had turned into the grandest of games he ever played with one of the birds! The last few months were the most fun he had in _years_!

Course, the only reason for why he was having so much fun was because he went to an insanely huge amount of trouble to make sure everything would be absolutely _perfect_ before he even started playing the game.

 _Everything better go perfectly._.. he thought peevishly. _Or else someone is gonna pay._

And by _someone_ , he meant any one of the morons who worked for him. Pogo, Happy Slappy, Pennywise, Bozo ... it didn't matter to him who ended up as the clown-in-the-box!

Of course, who he really wanted to make pay was Harley. She betrayed him, left him when he needed her the most, and took Robin — the real one — with her. _I mean really,_ he huffed as he laid a bouquet of flowers — roses! The little princess's favorite! — across the boy's chest. _How could Harley betray me like that? I gave her everything! Everything! And she tosses me over for Batsy's most obnoxious Robin?_

Well, he'd teach her about the consequences of her actions after he got finished playing with the little lovely.

 _Oh, she will be positively overcome with emotion when she finds my gift!_

She'd be so grateful for his generosity that he fully expected her to come and thank him in person. He couldn't wait for the moment when they were face-to-face.

Oh, the stories they could tell!

All the precious memories they could reminisce about together!

So many fabulous moments they could relive and bond over!

He just couldn't afford her finding him just yet.

There were too many things he still needed to do before the festivities got underway. Plans to finalize, details to oversee, and guests of honor he still needed her to send invitations too.

 _I mean, really_ , he huffed, _how can we have a party without ole Batsy?_

There was no party without the big guy!

Nobody said he couldn't have a little fun before the party, though!

He took out a pen and wrote her a little poem on one of the white t-shirts her bat wielding boy-toy liked wearing. He then left the shirt draped over the boy as his final present.

 _It's not all that great a poem_ , he silently admitted. It wasn't anywhere near his best work. _Now, the poem I left on the chest of that one little scamp was a true work of art,_ he thought, nestling a teddy bear dressed in the Bats armor beside the sleeping boy.

This poem was really nothing more than a tiny token of his undying love and affection. His way of reminding her that he was thinking about her, missed her and was looking forward to seeing her soon.

 _Oh, she'll be so appreciative of my thoughtfulness_ , he thought as he set a bloody crowbar on the pillows set on the headboard.

His lips inched upwards into a smile.

Not that one could really tell the difference.

He was always smiling.

Always telling a joke.

Always ready to deliver another stunning performance...

And this would be his greatest one yet!

Oh, he almost couldn't wait for the rest of the games to begin!

Anticipation was half the fun.

He giggled as he pictured the surprise on the princess's face when she returned from her little trip and found his gift waiting here in her bed.

 _You'll call Batsy then,_ _Toots_ , he thought as he turned to stroll from the room. _You won't have any other choice._

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	30. Thirty

Sherry was returning to the room she shared with the rest of Negan's wives from a much-needed smoke break when she spotted the thin man with the bright green hair slip out of Negan's bedroom and skip down the hall, giggling wildly.

Seeing someone leave Negan's bedroom didn't, on its own, cause her any real sort of alarm or concern. People tended to enter and exit Negan's private sanctuary all throughout the day unless Fin ordered otherwise. _And that's 'cause she doesn't cotton to anyone coming and going without her say-so_ , she thought as she stopped to watch the man.

Not that Sherry didn't understand why Fin didn't like people just walking into his room whenever they pleased. _Shoot, it's not just Negan's bedroom now._

Nope, it stopped being the place he used to host his informal planning parties or having private talks with people when Fin chose to stay at the Sanctuary with him.

It also stopped being the place where she and the rest of the wives went when he needed servicing.

Shit changed after Fin laid down her ultimatum.

 _It was her or us,_ she thought as the man ducked into a small alcove. _And we lost_.

Not that any of them minded.

Many of them chose to become one of his wives because it afforded them access to the things they couldn't get working for points.

Some, like Frankie and Tanya, chose it simply because it gave them power and standing.

A few, like herself, became one simply to protect their husbands or boyfriends.

Fin chose Negan for Negan. Something that Sherry didn't necessarily understand but which she respected. Fin wouldn't have decided to stay with him if she didn't see something in him worth loving.

 _And she sure wouldn't have agreed to raise Jordan with him_ , she realized as the man resumed his trek. _Not if she didn't believe he wouldn't make a decent father_.

Life changed once Fin decided to step up and accept her place as Negan's favorite. People stopped having to worry about punishment if they made a minor infraction. Rules were still rules and those who broke them got dealt with as Negan saw fit. However, only the most extreme cases met the iron or Lucille.

 _She tried to stop him from burning D's face, but he refused and sent her to their room to wait for him_ , she recalled as the man checked around a corner.

 _Where is he going_? she wondered as she followed. Something about this fella and what he was up to bothered her.

Maybe it was the way he danced down the hallway, the soles of his black and white dress shoes clicking on the tile while the tails of his purple suit jacket fanned out being him.

Or maybe it was the way he was alternating between singing something beneath his breath and cackling at some private joke.

 _Who is he_? _Have I seen him around here before_? She didn't think she had. Someone with that pale a complexion and shock of green hair would definitely have stood out. Her belly clenched as he resumed singing while skipping over to the stairs that led up to the roof.

"Twinkle, twinkle, my dearest brat... it's time for you to call the big black Bat!"

Sherry's eyes popped wide. She recognized those words. She heard something like them before.

 _But where_? She asked herself. _When_?

The blood drained from her face as realization dawned.

 _Those were the words written in Dewey Crowder's chest._

That could only mean that this man was the one who beat Dewey and all those other boys to death.

 _It's him,_ she realized as fear wrapped itself around her throat and clamped down tight _. It's the Joker._

 _He's here._

Another low cackle sent a chill crawling along her spine.

Simon was wrong when he told anyone who'd listen that Fin was feeding them a bunch of bullshit.

 _The Joker is real_.

And he was inside the Sanctuary.

 _I gotta find Negan_ , she thought as her heart pounded against her rib cage. _I need to tell him that he's..._

Pain exploded behind her eyes, ending that thought.

Sherry's world went bright.

Then dark.

...

The Joker made his way out onto the roof of the Sanctuary, cackling with glee, and anticipation. The princess would return soon and find the gift he left her. _And then the real fun will begin!_

Oh, and what fun it was gonna be, watching all the little people running around in a panic. It was almost worth the aggravation of the little darling failing to find the other gift he left her.

 _Almost_ , he thought as he skipped over to the edge and looked down to where people milled about.

Not that it mattered really. He found an even better way to get the little lovely's attention. He _could_ be adaptable when circumstances required it.

And there was still one card up his sleeve he'd just been waiting for the right moment to play!

Oh, and what a card it was, too!

 _Just wait until you see what your Uncle J has in store for the one-eyed boy_.

It was sure to give her the little push she needed. _You'll call Batsy then, won't ya, Toots?_

His mangled lips stretched into a wide smile as he pulled the walkie from his pocket.

"Alright, boys," he chortled into the walkie. "Let's introduce the world to a little anarchy!"

 _Yes_ , he thought as the walkie crackled and issued garbled acknowledgments. _The world is gonna burn and there's nothing Batsy or any of his winged brats can do to stop it_!

His high, keening laugh echoed on the breeze and drew the attention of a man lurking in the shadows.

...

Slade passed a group of women cowering behind some boxes as he made his way to his SUV. They shrunk back soon as they saw him, a few clutching onto each other, and whimpering softly.

He could understand their fear and anxiety. The world outside their doors was not a safe one. The one inside their sanctuary was not much safer, he reasoned as he paused to allow some workers to pass.

Negan wasn't a forgiving man. He punished those who broke his rules by either disposing of them outright or scarring them in a way to discourage others from making the same mistakes.

In general, Slade approved of Negan's methods. As cold and cruel as the punishments might seem, they worked to stabilize the community. Negan brought back a semblance of civilization with the way he ran his community.

People needed rules to follow, and someone capable of enforcing them.

More than the undead wanted to claim them for their own purposes.

Groups like the Whisperers and Wolves wanted to wipe them out for the supplies they had and the territory they occupied.

Mercurial bastards like the Joker wanted to use them to force Batman to come and pay attention to him.

Far more dangerous, in his mind, were the government agencies taking people and experimenting on them. _Bastards are kidnapping people and placing them in camps to help with repopulation and with finding a cure._

The only thing standing between these people and death was Negan.

'And Fenix,' the serpent inside him hissed. 'Even you can no longer deny she doesn't play a significant part in the way things are run here at the Sanctuary.'

No, he couldn't deny it. Raya was quite different from the women who worked and served Negan. Even a number of the women he encountered during his years as an A.S.I.S operative were unlike his dove.

Many were just as resourceful, intelligent, and clever as Raya. Quite a few were far superior to her in hand-to-hand combat. However, they did not have the same heart and drive she did. They lacked her moral fiber, her ironclad belief in the greater good, and her determination to uphold the rules instilled in her by the man who trained her.

Knowing her enemy, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to exploit them to her advantage was Batman 101. She'd have studied the Saviors, learned all she could about them, and about Negan before making her approach.

If he had to hazard a guess about when she infiltrated Negan's group, it was likely after a number of Negan's wives ended up raped and strangled. Such a case would have appealed to Raya on many levels.

The victims were all women. _She'd have taken that personally._

Second, she was a former special agent of the Gotham City Police Department. Stopping the one responsible not only ensured the safety of other women, but it also made her invaluable to Negan. She could hunt down those who broke his laws and deliver them to him for judgment.

Offering her services as a criminal profiler wouldn't have gained her the unlimited access and freedoms she so enjoyed. No, Raya would have realized she needed to give Negan something he didn't have, and that his people couldn't live without.

She offered herself.

Her influence was everywhere. And was something that bastard, Simon, didn't appreciate one bit. _He wants her gone so he can have more say and control over the way things get done around here_ , he thought as Liam fell into step behind him.

Raya kept Negan's violent impulses in control, got him to see there were ways other than his own to do things, and inspired the people here to work together for the survival of all.

That was what set her apart from the rest of the women who provided for Negan.

Many of them were incapable — largely because of age, illness or physical disabilities — of fighting off the waves of undead. Others were simply not able to survive without the men and handful of women to protect them. _And a few_ , he mused as he passed two women dressed in black, _simply chose a life of comfort over working for Negan's points_.

Some of the women managed to develop skills that set them apart from the rest of their gender. They possessed an animal's cunning, its hunger. And would kill whoever or whatever crossed their paths without mercy or pity. He considered them the most dangerous.

They'd do whatever it took to survive.

 _Even kill other members of the group if it serves their purpose_.

Raya gained Negan's interest simply by being herself. She wasn't the type of woman who would bend to his — or any man's — will. She was proudly defiant. A Queen even in the face of insurmountable odds. The kind of woman a man looking to build an empire or take down one wanted at his side.

Hadn't he realized that for himself after she came stumbling into the same cave he took refuge from the blizzard in? There she had been, just shy of six months pregnant with her son, Kai, and almost frozen through from prolonged exposure to the cold, but nowhere near beaten.

She met his interrogation of her with cool disdain and calm derision. Nothing he said or did forced her to reveal anything she didn't want him to know. _And that_ , he thought as he passed by a group of flannel-wearing buffoons, _is because she's been trained by Batman in how not to divulge anything while being interrogated_.

Even getting her to tell him her name had been harder than pulling teeth from a crocodile.

...

 _1998_

"Fenix," she finally said in a mildly detached tone. "My name is Fenix."

"Fenix, are you?" He held up an item for her to peruse. "And to what organization do you work for..." He saw her blanch as she stared at the flimsy item dangling from one of his fingers. " _Fenix_?"

If he thought him showing her mask to her would cause her to break down and tell him everything he wanted to know, he was sorely mistaken. She sent him a long look from beneath lowered lashes before calmly replying, "I don't work for an organization."

He didn't believe that at all.

"Then why do you need the mask, love?" One brow lifted. "It seems a rather suspicious thing to have in your possession if you don't work for any organization."

His tone warned her that there'd be consequences for lying to him. She, however, merely sniffed, clearly unimpressed, and unfazed by the silent threat. If not for the fact that he knew she was lying, he'd have been impressed.

Other women in her situation would have started sobbing and trying for mercy. This one? Just lobbied insults.

"I dunno, Crocodile Dundee. Looks like a mask to me..."

His eyes narrowed into thin slits as the jab washed over him. Either the woman had no idea about how dangerous baiting him in her present condition was or she was merely biding time as she waited for one of her partners to show up. Either way, he needed to remind her about who was in charge here.

"You should mind who you're insulting here, little one."

"Oh?" The knowing look she sent him told him plain as day that she knew she struck a nerve. And she wasn't one bit sorry for it. "And why's that... Mick?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. However, Slade didn't move from where he stood. While he had no problem in fighting a woman, it was not something he actively engaged in or enjoyed. And this woman... she tugged at him in ways he didn't understand. If it was because of her pregnant state or the dark things he saw in her eyes, he couldn't be sure. All he knew was he didn't want to do anything that'd cause her or her unborn child any pain.

"Answer my question," he said in a low, forceful tone, "or you'll find out why crossing me is a bad idea."

If he thought that was gonna work, he was in for a rude awakening.

"Well, Kangaroo Jack." Her lips inched upwards into a smirk. "It looks to me like I went to a costume party dressed as Fenix."

"So, the suit in your pack, along with the body armor is merely part of a Halloween costume?" He scoffed. "Try again. And," he warned in one low rumble, "do try to tell me the truth this time, love."

She let out an indignant squawk upon discovering he ransacked her pack. Only her rounded belly, as well as her unclothed state, kept her from leaping to her feet and confronting him. She muttered a few choice curses as she flopped back down upon the pallet and soothed her wounded pride by shooting glares at him from beneath lowered lashes.

"What right did you have to go through my things?" She demanded as she wrapped the blanket more tightly around her. "Huh?"

"You stumbled into my cave," he pointed out with a slow smile. "That rather gave me the right to go through your things."

"Bullshit."

"If you were to succumb to your prolonged exposure to the elements, I would need to know who to contact."

"If I was dressed..."

She left the threat hanging. Slade could figure out what exactly she'd do to him if she had clothes on. _Well, try to do,_ be amended silently. It wasn't like she would be able to do much against a man as well-trained as him.

"Your pregnancy and not your state of undress stop you from attacking me, little one. Though it makes little difference in the end."

"Oh?" she ground out from between clenched teeth. "And why is that?"

"Clothed and not pregnant or unclothed and pregnant make no difference," he told her. "You don't stand a chance against a man like me." He leaned back against a rock protruding from the ground and studied her through narrowed eyes. "Considering the sword and other gadgets and weapons I found in your pack, though, I'm suitably confident you'd provide me with a decent enough challenge before eventually losing to my more superior skill and advanced training."

"Oh, I beg to disagree, love." She smiled, all cool confidence and feminine superiority. "See, my daddy taught me how to eat men like you for breakfast."

Her acerbic tongue amused him. He'd love to continue trading quips with her. However, he needed to find out why she was there. And whether her mentor was the one who sent her.

"And is Batman the one who taught you how to eat men like me for breakfast, love?"

...

 _She didn't even so much as blink_ , he thought as the memory faded. He thought she hadn't heard him. However, the slight glint to her eyes assured him she had and was working on what she was going to tell him.

Slade readily admitted he found himself more than a little impressed at her ability to stay cool under pressure. He could say he found himself enchanted even. Few women possessed the skills she had, and even fewer remained as humble about them as she did.

The more he got to know Raya and to understand the woman she was, the more enamored with her he became.

He was still captivated by her.

And he'd kill any man who dared to touch her.

Especially that smug bastard, Negan.

 _He cannot have her_ , he thought, fists curling at his sides. _She belongs with me. I, alone, can protect her and our daughter._

One of his men saying, "Boss?" broke Slade from his thoughts. He sent a sharp glance over his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"The men are wondering…" the man paused. "Are you planning on going to this Alexandria to see if Fenix is there or are you wanting to return to the Foundry?"

He would love nothing more than to go to this Alexandria safe-zone and see if his dove was there as Negan's man claimed she was.

However, Slade knew he needed to bide his time. Raya managed to evade him the other times he tracked her down. He couldn't afford her slipping through his fingers again. _Getting my hands on the sheriff or his boy is my only option for gaining her compliance_.

"We will return to the Foundry at this time," he told the man as he crossed to his SUV. "Capturing a woman as skilled as Fenix will not be an easy task."

"Of course, sir."

Slade went to climb into his SUV but paused when he spied the playing card stuck to the window. He peeled it off and turned it over.

It was a Joker playing card with one word scrawled across the face in what looked like red marker: _BOOM_!

He barely had time to dive out-of-the-way before orange flame fountained out of the second SUV as it got lifted off the pavement by the force of the explosion...

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	31. Thirty-One

Groaning metal, splintering glass, and the sizzle of air escaping from the melting tires drowned out the roar of the fire. Choking plumes of gray smoke and bright orange flames twisted together as they stretched up towards the sky.

A buzz of uncertainty hung over the yard. Even Daryl found himself looking around in confusion.

 _Some sorta bullshit is definitely going down_ , he realized as the hair on the back of his neck trembled.

Some serious shit by the looks of it.

 _And I gotta feeling it gotta do with that sumbitch who was outside my cell earlier._

Daryl didn't know who all the clown was. He was just some giggling asshole who gave him a playing card with _HA_ written on it.

All he had been able to recall Mule telling him about the "pasty-faced freak" was that he was the single most dangerous monster any of her family ever faced, that he lived to create chaos and confusion, and had no problem whatsoever in killing kids.

Looking at the wreckage of the SUV confirmed how much the sumbitch liked creating chaos and confusion.

The walkers in the yard were the only ones not affected by what was going on. They continued to whine and groan, straining against the chains that bound them to concrete girders and huge blocks of stone, and reaching out with blackened fingers for those who could slack their ever-present hunger.

Only one of them disjointed figures stood out to Daryl. A boy, about Carl's age, hung on a small section of fence nearest the entrance to the Sanctuary. One eye was missing while the other had a bloodstained piece of cloth covering it.

If it wasn't that he knew Carl was safely back in Alexandria with Rick, he'd have thought it was him hanging there.

 _Who'n hell is this kid_?

And was it this clown and not Negan who killed him?

 _Mule wouldn't be with the asshole if he killed kids_ , he realized as shouts started to sound above the roar of the fire. _Nah, she'd have taken his ass down if he did that_.

Daryl had no love for the asshole. He believed him capable of a whole lotta shit. Especially after what the sumbitch did to Glenn and Abraham.

However, he didn't think him capable of _this_.

People started pouring out from the Sanctuary. In the absence of an emergency response system — another casualty of the shit world they were living in — people came together and did whatever they could to save their home.

Survival was the law of the land.

Many of the people formed a line to fight the fire.

Others helped those hurt when the SUV blew up.

Part of Daryl wanted to see the flames consume everyone and everything in its path.

However, the other part of him, the one still capable of rational thought, didn't want to see innocent people suffer.

 _We all suffered enough_ , he decided as a familiar voice sounded above the commotion.

"Goddamn it, you fat bastard! His ass isn't supposed to be fucking out here!"

Daryl whipped his head around and saw Negan stalking over to where a boy about nine or ten stood on the steps of the Sanctuary, watching the flames with wide eyes.

"I couldn't stop him!" Fat Joey tried to explain as he came puffing down the steps. "He said he needed to find you or Fin!"

Negan mumbled a few inarticulate things. Daryl's waited for the asshole to haul off and hit the sweating man with the bat he clenched in one hand. When he didn't, he blinked.

 _What the_...?

He also didn't berate the boy as he expected, either. No, the asshole spoke to him in an almost reasonable tone. A _fatherly_ one, he realized, eyes narrowing. And he did it, Daryl saw with even more surprise, while _signing_ to him.

"I told you that you can't leave the Sanctuary. Not unless either me or Fin are with you." The kid signed something back. "No, you're going to go with Fat Joey's ass inside and stay the fuck there until me or Fin come and get you."

The kid signed something else, his face set in the same way that Mule's did when she took up some notion.

"You're too small to help with this shit."

The kid frowned, clearly not liking being told he couldn't help fight the fire, but not arguing the point further. Negan signaled Fat Joey who came forward quickly to collect him.

"Get him the fuck back inside and don't let him out of your fucking sight."

"You want me to take him to your room?"

"You get him the fuck into the safe room that Fin set up for when shit went down," he told him. "And don't let him the fuck out of it unless me or Fin say to."

"I won't let anything happen to him, boss," Fat Joey promised as he took hold of the boy's arm. "I'll make sure he's kept safe."

"You better hope nothing happens to him. If something does..." Negan dropped his voice an octave. "It will be Lucille for you. You fucking understand me?"

Fat Joey blanched and nodded. "Yes, boss."

"Good." He indicated the Sanctuary with the bat in his hand. "Now, get him the fuck inside."

Fat Joey led the boy away a second before another, smaller explosion sent more debris into the air.

"What the shit?" Negan turned to look at the burning vehicle. "Haven't you fucks got that fucking fire under control yet?"

"We're doing our best," one of the men grunted. "Might have to let this shit burn itself out."

"Just make fucking sure that it doesn't spread to the Sanctuary."

He turned then to look at Daryl. "Well, looks like you have gotten a momentary reprieve."

"Is Mule safe?"

Daryl saw the dangerous glint to his eye but ignored it. It didn't matter what happened to him. Long as Mule and the others were safe, he'd take whatever punishment Negan wanted to hand out.

"Don't you fucking worry about her cute li'l ass, hunter fuck."

"I asked you if her ass is safe."

"It's none of your goddamn business if she's safe or not."

Daryl made to climb out of the back of the truck he'd been loaded into but a handful of assault rifles aimed at him stopped him. He glared at them but remained seated.

"Where'n hell is Mule?" He demanded. "Is she somewhere safe?"

"Why the fuck do you..." Negan began but Daryl cut him off.

"Ain't got time for no long-winded debate." He nodded towards the burning car. "Whoever done this shit is doing it to get at Mule's ass. Now, is she somewhere safe or not?"

The fuel tank of the second SUV exploded, preventing Negan from answering his question. Smoke and flames rose from the wreckage and mingled with that pouring off the first.

The last thing that Daryl heard before his head slammed against the bench opposite the one he sat on was a high-pitched laugh…

...

Near a door that led out to a small alley, two men watched and waited for the signal that'd tell them to go. Neither could claim total investment in this particular plan. Not that either of them would confess such to the man behind it.

Telling the Joker how bad a plan of his was was about as dumb as grabbing a live electrical wire with your bare hand.

Course, one had a minimal chance of surviving the shock they'd get from the wire.

There'd be no such thing with the Joker.

The taller of the two men shifted after several long minutes and glanced over at the second.

"You really think the boss is gonna convince Fenix to call the Bat here with this plan of his?"

The man grunted and shifted the assault rifle in his right hand to his left.

"Yup."

Short and to the point. Bob didn't waste time on words. He said what he needed and that was the end of it. Joe appreciated that. Especially since the leader of this band of shitheads liked to hear himself talk. _He talks more than the Joker_.

Not that he'd tell him that, of course.

"Why now, though?" He shook his head. "He's left five bodies at this point for her to find and nothing."

"So?"

"So, if she ain't cracked by now, what makes him think she will?"

"'Cause none of those brats been laid out in her bed. Or look like that deaf brat she took in."

"I suppose." Joe was still skeptical about this working where all the other attempts failed. "Whatcha think he's got planned for when Batsy gets here?"

"Something special."

"Oh, yea?" He spat a stream of tobacco into a nearby garbage can. "Got any ideas about what?"

"Heard he plans to bury the birds in special coffins he had built before leaving Gotham."

Joe's eyebrows shot up to his hairline at that information.

"He's gonna bury 'em?"

"Yup."

"Alive?"

Bob shook a smoke out of a pack he produced from his back pocket.

"Yup."

Joe felt a chill creep over him. Being buried alive terrified him almost as much as being burned alive or drowning. _Ain't no way for anyone to die_ , he thought, shuddering. If he had to choose between slowly suffocating in a small box, being submerged in water —or battery acid, knowing the boss — and cooked like a steak on a grill, he'd choose suffocation. _Won't be as painful as the other two ways_.

A loud explosion shook him from his morbid thoughts.

"There's the signal."

"Yup." Bob indicated the woman unconscious at his feet. "Let's get her back to the Funhouse."

"What's the boss want with one of Negan's wives, anyway?"

"Does it matter?"

"No."

"Then let's go."

Joe hoisted the woman over his shoulder and followed Bob from the Sanctuary without another word.

…

Slade dove out-of-the-way a second before orange flames spewed from beneath the SUV. The force of the explosion sent the men — his, as well as a handful of Negan's — standing nearest to the vehicle flying in multiple directions.

Some hit the fence surrounding the yard of undead bastards while others bounced off railings and stairways.

Three of his men smashed into the wall of the Sanctuary as if they were little more than matchsticks before dropping down to the ground in a shower of glass and other debris.

Not a one moved.

Slade felt a scorching heat at his back as the SUV came slamming back down with enough force to make the pavement tremble beneath him.

 _What the hell just happened?_ The question rolled through his head as he propped himself up on an elbow. _Am I under attack? Or is Negan?_

Something told him it was them both.

Slade ignored the blinding pain shooting through his skull as he sat up. He had a second to roll out-of-the-way before one of the doors, blown off by a smaller implosion, tried to finish what Oliver Queen and so many others had failed at doing.

It slammed into the side of the building with enough force to splinter the plaster.

Shouts and panic-filled screams sounded above the sound of sizzling metal, popping plastic, and shattering glass. Smoke filled the yard and made it hard to see anything but his own hand in front of his face. Slade's ears rang. His head felt fuzzy. He was still alive, though. Whoever just tried to blow him into a billion pieces failed.

Like all the others who tried to get rid of him had.

He got to one knee as men and women poured out from the Sanctuary to fight the blaze. Many carried buckets and bags of sand. Some carried fire extinguishers they used to put out the blaze. The dry powder inside of the extinguishers would help smother the flames and prevent the fire from spreading to the main compound.

"Move them other goddamn vehicles before the fire can get to 'em!"

The speaker, whoever the hell he was, sounded as if he was talking from a hundred yards away and not three.

"Get those fucking boxes outta the path of the fire!"

Slade turned his head to see Negan sauntering in his direction, his precious bat slung over his shoulder, and a slight curl to his lips that grated on his already taut nerves.

If Slade didn't already have an idea about who was behind the bombings, he would think Negan the culprit.

The bastard wasn't above trying to get rid of him.

Especially since it meant he could keep Raya all to himself.

The serpent alive and well inside his head hissed as it slithered out of its cavern to torture him with images of Neganrunning his hands, his lips over his dove's small, tight body.

Short flashes soon became full-bodied visions of her beneath the bastard, moving under him, against him.

Damp skin, like honeyed cream, slid over sun-kissed gold.

Eyes nearly black with desire widened, and swollen lips, parted.

He could almost hear her breath, the catch, and release, the soft gasps, the slight whimpers stuck in her throat.

For a minute, he thought he could smell her, that haunting mix of jasmine, camellia, and gardenia that always made him think of their walks through her garden on those hot Australian nights right before his deployment to Lian Yu.

It was almost more than he could stand. Wasn't one man stealing away the affections of a woman he cared for enough?

Well, Negan wouldn't have the chance to use her as he did all the other women who crossed his path.

He'd see the bastard dead, first.

Negan was not behind the bombs, though. Of that, Slade was absolutely certain. He had no reason to get rid of him. He wouldn't even if it meant keeping Raya all to himself. Negan was all about deals that provided him with the things he and his people needed; wanted.

Eliminating him would end that deal. In a world where medications, munitions, and food supplies were hard to come by, killing off a supplier was beyond foolish.

Negan was many things, but even he admitted how _fool_ was not one of them.

Beyond that, the car bombs were far too advanced an attack for a man like Negan. He preferred psychologically torturing his victims with long-winded diatribes, and childish threats before bludgeoning them to death with his bat.

No, there was only one person behind the bombing. One man who would enjoy the chaos it would cause. A man far more dangerous than the infected groaning from inside their steel enclosure or wandering about outside the Sanctuary.

A man with a bone-white face, blood-red grin, and a high-pitched cackle that echoed for miles.

The Joker was a large reason for why he wanted to get his daughter somewhere safe. He saw for himself just what the bastard was capable of the night Matthew Berkeley held Raya hostage on a bridge connecting old Gotham with new...

...

 **Gotham**

The clown danced around in a circle, arms spread wide as he cackled with almost maniacal glee. Slade tuned him out. He could kill the bastard after he killed Matthew Berkeley. He attenuated himself to the sound of his heartbeat and turned his focus to the woman with the knife against her throat.

His index finger slid over the trigger as if it was the creamy flesh of the woman being held prisoner by her father.

All it would take was a simple squeeze and she'd be free of the man who tormented her for much of her life.

He took a split second to breathe, and then instinctively, and without pause, applied the right amount of pressure to that trigger.

The shot rang out over the bridge.

Matthew Berkeley was dead before his body hit the ground...

...

He got rid of Matthew Berkeley that night, but the Joker managed to escape before he could get a second shot lined up. Not killing the clown was one of the promises he failed to keep to Raya.

 _I will see to it that he dies this time,_ he swore. _He will not escape me again._

Slade went to stand, but something hard slammed into the back of his head.

The force of the blow pitched him face first on the ground and sent pain shrieking through his brain. He struggled to hang on to consciousness. Rough hands rolled him on his back.

He cracked his eyelid open just enough to make out a blurry figure leaning over him. The rank odor of sweat, unwashed clothes, and cigarette smoke invaded his nostrils and almost made him gag.

"The shithead is alive but took a helluva bump to the back of the head," the man pronounced in a deep voice. "Gonna have to get him to Doc Carson. He gonna need stitches to close that shit."

"That'll please the boss to hear."

"Can't help that." The man grunted. "What about the other two standing there with his ass when the damn thing blew up? You check 'em?"

"Yup."

"And?"

"Dead as doornails."

Rage and a small amount of regret boiled beneath Slade's skin at hearing his men had all been killed. It was the nature of their profession. Death was something they accepted. It came with the job description.

That didn't mean he didn't lament their loss.

Both of them had wives waiting back at the Foundry for them. Both had children under the age of ten. _Children who would grow up without a father_ , he realized as rough hands checked him for other injuries.

 _Children like Christopher Kent, who never got a chance to meet either the man who sired him or the one who'd have raised him as his flesh-and-blood son because they got murdered before he was born._

The reminder sent a slimy swirl of guilt to join the pain tearing at his head.

"Either of 'em looks like they gonna turn?" he heard another man ask. "'Cause you know the rules."

"We made sure the poor bastards can't turn."

"Good."

A pair of scuffed boots appeared next to Slade's head then. He tried to focus on them through the haze clouding his vision but couldn't get his eye to obey his demand.

"Is that that Wilson fuck?"

That voice was enough to tell him who the owner of the boots was. His pulse kicked, and he tried to push himself up but didn't have the strength to do more than curl his fingers on the concrete.

"Yeah, boss."

"What the fuck happened?"

"Looks like someone rigged his vehicles to blow," the third voice said. "Found these goddamn playing cards scattered all over the place."

"Joker playing cards?" Someone scoffed. "Who the fuck has a deck of nothing but joker playing cards?"

"Oh, well, allow me to answer that, gentlemen."

That voice slid across Slade's already sensitive nerves and electrified them. It could have been any one of the other women who lived there at the Sanctuary that had spoken.

Yet Slade knew who it was.

 _Rose_...

His heart started to beat a hard tattoo against his ribcage. Anticipation sang through his veins. He tried to lift his head, to look at his daughter, but pain exploded before he even got his skull an inch off the ground.

The last thing he heard was Rose saying, "My mother is very well acquainted with the man who uses those playing cards as his calling cards," before darkness claimed him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this week has been kind to you!


	32. Thirty-Two

"My mother is very well acquainted with the man who uses those playing cards as his calling cards."

 _That voice,_ Negan thought, slowly turning. _That sultry, smoky, silky voice_. Only, the girl standing in that fancy ass suit of armor and black half-mask wasn't Fin.

No, she was a few inches taller, her skin tanned gold from the hours she spent out in the sun, and her hair straight as an arrow and not a wildly curling halo that framed her angelic face.

Her eyes, though, were the same shade of green as Fin's.

 _Fuck me ten ways from Sunday_ , he thought as he stared at her. _You just had to have your momma's goddamn eyes, didn't you_?

He'd have been disappointed if her eyes had been the same shade as that one-eyed prick's.

A familiar ache filled him as he stared at this miniature version of Fin. He pictured a little girl with big green eyes and bouncing curls curled up in his lap while her pretty mama read to them in that smokey, silky voice.

He wanted that picture to become reality. He wanted it bad enough he was willing to do just about anything to see it come to pass.

Even work with Prick if he had to.

 _So_ , he mused as more people poured out of the Sanctuary. _This is Rose Wilson_. The girl he had been ordered to turn over to the one-eyed shithead or else face severe consequences.

Not that Wilson's threats impressed him any. Why would they? This was his castle and he was King of it.

Everything inside the Sanctuary, all the people who resided there, they were his responsibility. He'd crack open the skull of any fucking fuck who tried to hurt someone under his protection.

And this girl?

Well, she was _Fin's_ daughter.

That meant he'd do more than introduce some sorry shit to Lucille.

'Ah, but she's not really Fin, now, is she?' A sly voice whispered in the back of his head. 'Fin is just a name she gave you.'

 _No_. _Fin is her name_. _It's who the fuck she is._

'No,' the voice retorted. 'Her name is Raya Kean.'

 _That's who the fuck she was in Gotham_. _It's not who she is here and now._

'Raya Kean is the little girl who watched her father beat her mother before finally killing her,' the voice pointed out. 'She is the woman who chose between her best friend and the man who fathered her son. She is the woman behind the superhero. The one named... _Fenix_.'

 _Fin_ _is abso-fucking-lutely nothing like Fenix_.

Granted, she waded into the middle of shit with the confidence of an Amazon. And she could shoot a tick off a dog's pecker from ten feet away.

That still didn't mean she was anything like this Fenix.

No, Fin marched to the sound of her own drums. She played by her own set of rules. Had her own code of conduct.

She was her own woman.

 _No, scratch that_ , he thought as people started to battle the flames. _Fin's my fucking woman._

And that was all there was to it.

"Lemme guess who the fuck you are..." he said, lips stretching into a tight smile. "You're—"

"Fenix." Her smile was as cool as his. "You can call me Fenix."

"No, that's your mother's no-fucking-longer secret identity."

She tossed her head in the same way Fin did when she was trying to assert her dominance.

Fin doing it made his balls tingle.

Her daughter doing it only amused him.

"I'm Fenix now." There was a bite, a quick, nasty nip, in her tone that had him narrowing his eyes at her. "And you will address me by that name when we are in public."

The girl had also inherited Fin's sharp tongue. He gave Fin free rein to speak her mind. Her straightforward way tended to amuse, as much as it excited him. Her daughter needed to learn there was a time and place where she could pull that shit.

 _Now is not one of those times. Not when there is shit going on that requires my immediate attention._

"And is that," he gestured at her armor with Lucille, "not your mother's?"

"It is my mother's suit, yes." A glimpse of that bite snapped, for one moment, in those green depths before she sniffed and demanded, "Why?"

"It means you're just fucking borrowing it."

"And will be until said time as my mother chooses to resume her role of Fenix."

"Your mother has no need to resume her role as this Fenix."

 _She has me to handle shit for her_ , he added silently. _She doesn't need to put on any fancy armor and mask._

"Don't presume my mother will not resume her role as Fenix."

"I'm not presuming anything," he told her curtly. "I'm stating."

Her eyes glinted in the same way Fin's did when she got annoyed with him. "You don't own my mother, and you have no say over her decisions."

He let her know with a look that she needed to mind her tongue. Not that it worked. His looks never worked with Fin, why should he fucking expect them to work on the miniature version of her?

"I don't have time for this," he rasped. "I have other shit requiring my attention."

"Oh, I can see that." Her arms crossed over her chest. Her mother's battle stance. "That's why I'm here."

"I'll handle this shit. Then I'm going to go and retrieve your mother's cute li'l ass." He pointed towards the Sanctuary with Lucille. "You take your ass inside and wait for us to get back."

"You can't bring Mom back here to the Sanctuary." Her feet spread apart. "You need to leave her with Mr. Grimes."

He didn't even wonder how the girl knew that her momma was with Prick.

"I don't have the goddamn time for this." He pointed Lucille at the Sanctuary again. "Get your ass inside and don't give me any more fucking lip."

"I'm not going inside."

"Ro..."

"I said no."

Negan went to take a step towards her but stopped when he realized there was almost a desperation underscoring her sharp refusal. Something he instinctively knew had to do with Fin.

"What the fuck happened?" He took a step towards her. "Goddamn it, if someone tried to attack your mother..."

 _If one of the one-eyed bastard's men touched her_ , he added silently as his fingers clamped around Lucille's handle. _I will make the fucker pay._

"No," she assured him. "Nobody tried to attack my mother." She grimaced. "Not that I'm aware of, anyway."

"Then why the fuck don't you want her coming back to the Sanctuary?"

"Because I don't want her to find the present that was left in your bedroom."

"Present?" He hadn't left Fin a present. "What fucking present?"

 _And what fucking fuck gave it to her?_

"A boy that looks like Jordan was dressed as Robin and left in your bed."

Negan didn't think he heard her correctly. He couldn't have. Someone left a what in his what?

"Say that shit again."

"A boy that looks like Jordan was dressed as Robin and left in your bed."

Lucille dropped down to his side. _Fucking fuck..._

"Is he...?"

Not that he needed to ask…

"Dead?" She nodded. "Yes."

His fingers tightened on Lucille. "Was he beaten like the others?"

Again, the same answer. "Yes. And yes, he has a poem written in his chest. One that only members of my family will recognize."

Dewey and the other boys this Joker fuck killed were a sore subject with him. _And with Fin_ , he added silently. She took their deaths personally, blamed herself for not stopping the Joker before he got his hands on them.

"And was it this Joker fuck who killed this boy?"

Her smile was thin as a blade.

"Oh, it's the Joker who did it, alright," she confirmed with a slight nod. "And he's here in the Sanctuary." That's why you can't bring mom back here."

…

"He's a fucking asshole."

Those were the first words out of Raya's mouth after they joined Dwight at the gate. Rick rarely heard her use such colorful language while they were traveling together. The few times she let something stronger than _shit_ , _asshole_ or _son of a bitch_ fly usually came about because of something serious going on.

Slade Wilson being at the Sanctuary definitely qualified as something serious. Rick had never met the man, but he heard enough about him to know he was dangerous. Far more than Negan, the Governor, and Gareth.

Even hordes of walkers were less of a menace than Slade Wilson.

 _Last night would have ended much differently if it was him instead of Negan_ , he thought as he and Dwight exchanged a look. _He wouldn't have played a game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe or talked us to death._

No, they'd all just be dead.

And rightfully so.

Much as Rick hated to admit Raya was right - and would never tell her she was since there'd be no living with her otherwise - what they did at Negan's outpost was nothing short of murder. Need might have compelled them to make the deal they did but arrogance drove them. They believed they could take out Negan because they managed to survive all their other encounters.

And it cost them.

Much as those encounters had.

Actions had consequences. If they could have the balls to go in there and kill those men, well, then they needed to have the balls to accept the ramifications that came from their choices. _All of this is my fault_ , he thought yet again. _If I hadn't gotten so cocky, if I hadn't agreed we needed to strike at Negan first, if I had taken the time to learn about who I was going up againt_...

"Smarmy-mouthed bastard," Raya muttered as she stalked by him. "Rotten, no good dickhead."

 _I wouldn't have her pacing around and swearin' like a sailor_.

The only good that came from the night before was that it brought Raya back into his life. He trusted her when she said she would help him make things right. More than that, he believed her. Raya hadn't been compromised by this world.

She had been born in it.

Real life for her wasn't like it was in movies or books. The heroes didn't get to make every mistake under the sun because everything would turn out all right in the end. Real life didn't care if things worked out okay at the end of the day. It was vile and vicious. People got sick; died.

 _The heroes don't always get to save the day._

Raya understood that better than any of them. _And she's never given up._ _Her and her family keep fighting in spite of it all._

"Conniving, manipulative shit." It wasn't like he or the man seated on the motorcycle and watching him through narrowed eyes needed all that many guesses about who she was ranting about. "Arrogant, volatile, cold-hearted son of a bitch. Megalomaniacal muther fuc..."

"So, why don't you tell us about how you really feel about Slade Wilson."

A piercing look from over one shoulder was her response to his lightly spoken jest. Her mouth opened on what he assumed would be a blistering retort but got cut short when a sound, like a series of cherry bombs getting set off, shattered the silence.

"Hell was that?" Dwight glanced over his shoulder. "Fat Joey on horde control this morning?"

"No, it came from the Sanctuary." Raya pointed to where smoke was rising in the distance. "Look."

"Shit..." Dwight took his cigarette and dropped it on the ground. "You stay here. I'll go check it out."

"No, I..."

"Gotta stay here," he said as he crushed the butt with the tip of his boot. "You know it's what he'd tell you if his ass was here."

Raya harrumphed. "Fine, I'll stay here." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I can organize things from here in Alexandria just as easily as I could at the Sanctuary."

"Here." He handed her the walkie clipped to his pocket. "Keep that with you." Then he sent a look at Rick. "Best not let anything happen to her. He only killed two of your people for that shit you pulled at the Satellite Outpost. He'll kill all your sorry asses if something happens to Fin."

"Nothing's gonna happen to her," Rick promised. "You can tell the asshole that."

…

Christopher was walking beside his uncle, Paul, when a slight sound, like the barrage of fireworks, cruised along the early morning air.

 _What the hell_ …? The fifteen-year-old frowned as he stopped walking. _What was that?_

He attenuated to the sound, trying to work out where it originated from. He filtered out the discordant buzzing of the undead, the voices speaking in varying tones, and even the cries of those in pain. That left a few sounds. He zeroed in on them as Superman taught him. The crackling of fire, the whine of bending metal, the popping of plastic, splintering glass, and sizzling liquids.

 _Sounds that a car makes after it blows up,_ he realized, pulse kicking.

That made no sense, however.

Things only went _kaboom_ when they were trying to cut down the number of infected. He wasn't aware of any controlled bombings being planned for that morning. _And mom wouldn't blow up anything without alerting Uncle Paul or Tim, first._

That left only one possibility: that something went _boom_ that wasn't _supposed_ to go _boom_.

 _Could mean there's trouble at the Sanctuary_...

Just as he thought it, grayish smoke lifted above the trees. Less than a second later, it was followed by thick clouds of black smoke.

Kai's eyebrows forked as he watched the plumes spread across the cloudless sky. _That definitely came from the Sanctuary_.

The only thing he didn't know was _why_. What was happening at the Sanctuary that a car or something else went _kaboom_?

His gut told him it was sign that there was trouble. Big trouble. The sort that wore an orange and black balaclava. He was about to point out the smoke to his uncle Paul when he spoke.

"Is your mother having teams cut the numbers of infected?" His tone was sharp with fear and a good dose of worry. "I told her when I saw her a few days ago that the infected have amassed a large number to the west of here."

Christopher wondered if he should tell his uncle where the explosion originated from. Negan was a touchy subject. That Paul Rovia despised him and many of his Saviors was a gross understatement. _He struck a deal with Mr. Grimes to get rid of Negan because he wants mom away from him_.

"Mom hasn't ordered a sweep in a few weeks."

It was something he should have talked to Uncle Tim about doing. He hadn't because it was still hard for his uncle to accept that euthanizing the infected people was the only option open to them. _Even Luthor has told him there's no way to cure the infected. Not yet, anyway._

And not without a sample of his own blood for Luthor to use to test his hypothesis with. His mother and grandfather adamantly opposed him being milked like a cobra or black widow spider. _When I turn sixteen, though_ , he swore silently. _I will make the decision about letting Luthor have a sample of my blood._

It was what they all agreed to the last time he asked to give a sample of his blood.

"I wonder where the explosion came from then. And more importantly, what caused it." There was worry, but also humor in the eyes that met his. "Normally, I'd say this is your mother sending up a smoke signal, but this seems tame in comparison to some of the things she's done to get our attention."

"It's at the Sanctuary."

"The Sanctuary?" Uncle Paul frowned. "How do you know it's coming from the Sanctuary?"

Guilt swirled around in his belly.

"Because I, uh," he mumbled, not meeting his uncle's gaze, "sorta know where the Sanctuary is."

"You what?"

"I, uh, sorta know where the Sanctuary is."

"How?" Uncle Paul demanded. "How do you know where the Sanctuary is?"

Christopher shuffled back and forth on the balls of his feet. He felt like a louse for keeping such a secret. Not that he had any choice. He promised his mom he'd never reveal the location. _Not unless it became absolutely necessary._

"I've sorta, uhm, been there." He indicated the smoke in the distance with one hand. "It's in that direction."

His uncle looked at the smoke and then back at him. Christopher saw his hurt, surprise, and felt like an even bigger rat. Yet when he spoke, his tone was as cool and calm as always. A clear indicator of how upset he was about this information being kept from him.

"You've been to the Sanctuary?"

"Mhm."

"How often?"

"Uhm, many times."

"Many times?" Surprise replaced the hurt. "Your mother has never even told _me_ where the Sanctuary is."

"Yeah, I, uh, know she hasn't."

Only silently did he add, _and she didn't because of how much you dislike Negan_.

"Why? Didn't she trust me?"

"You know that's not why she didn't tell you about where the Sanctuary is."

"Then why didn't she?"

"Well, 'cause."

"Well, 'cause why?"

Christopher dug the tip of his boot into the dirt and tried to think of a way to explain that wouldn't hurt his uncle even over. Truth finally won out.

"'Cause she didn't want you breaking into the Sanctuary and trying to kidnap her." He glanced up. "She was trying to avoid a war."

His uncle accepted that without comment. _Likely 'cause it's what he planned to do if Mr. Grimes failed to kill Negan._

"When did she tell you where the Sanctuary is?"

"Well, uhm, she didn't actually _tell_ me the Sanctuary's location."

"Then how do you know about it?"

Christopher felt his cheeks grow uncomfortably warm.

"I, sorta, uhm, followed Roy there one night."

 _And got my hide blistered for it_ , he recalled with a grimace. That his mother had been mad was an understatement.

"Is that why you've been grounded to the Bunker for the last two months?" There was humor, just a speckle of it, in uncle Paul's voice. "Because you followed Roy to the Sanctuary?"

"Maybe…"

"Well," he said but a second explosion cut off whatever he was gonna say.

More smoke flew into the sky. It was time, Christopher decided, that he go investigate what was going on.

 _Making sure Mom is okay_ _is definitely worth the lecture I'll get for showing up at the Sanctuary without permission_.

"Radio Uncle Tim!" he called over his shoulder as he took off at a slow jog. Well, _slow_ for him. "Tell him something is going on at the Sanctuary and that I'm going to check on Mom!"

"Just be careful," was his uncle's response. "And let me know if you need help."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope that this finds you well!


	33. Thirty-Three

The Clown Prince of Crime watched fiery chaos engulf the people below. He alternated between choking laughter and gasping for breath.

He touched a finger to a tear as it rolled down his cheek. He studied the wetness with great amusement before looking back down at the throng of people running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

 _Oh, lookie,_ _there's Fonzie_ , he thought as the Big Lug emerged from his so-called safe haven and started barking orders. It was about time he decided to go and fetch the little princess. _Really do need her brought back to the castle!_

How else was she supposed to find the gift he left in her bed? How else would she completely lose her mind and call for Batsy as he wanted?

Yes, Fonzie simply had to go get the little lovely and bring her back here so the next part of the game could begin.

Anticipation had him do a little jig. His grin stretched wide as he imagined all the fun he and Batsy would have.

Oh, yes, once Fenix fulfilled her obligation and called Batsy here to this desolate backwater, they'd play like they never played before!

He planned to reward the little princess for her part, of course. It just wouldn't be fair to not give her _something_ for all her hard work and dedication. He giggled as he pictured her reaction to the beds he designed for her and the rest of Batsy's twerps.

She'd protest, of course.

Put up a fight.

It'd be for show.

She'd climb into the bed he made special for her in the end.

She wouldn't have any choice.

Her bed was especially special. He had it outfitted with silk lining and a little heart-shaped pillow in green and purple silk. He even went to the trouble of having speakers installed so he could read her a bedtime story before those pretty little green eyes closed forever!

Yes, he'd put a lot of thought into this plan. Everything that came next depended on things happening exactly as he intended them too.

If not, there'd be hell to pay.

Once Batsy discovered what he had done to his bunch of brats, he would snap. That pesky mantle of civility he wore would finally get cast off and the monster — the one he promised to show him before the end — would finally emerge.

Yes, soon as Batsy saw there was no breath left in any of their bodies, he'd come after him with righteous conviction and bloodthirsty vengeance.

He'd finally, _finally_ break that one teensy tiny rule of his.

And he absolutely could not _wait_!

His high, keening laugh echoed above the terrorized screams, the shouts of the people trying to put out his firework display, and the grunts and groans of the rotting corpses hanging out in the yard.

He spotted the little princess just as she came down the front stairs, resplendent in that adorable costume so much like Batsy's.

 _There you are, Toots..._

His verdant eyes gleamed with glee and his mouth stretched wide as he waited for her reaction to his gift.

His smile quickly turned into a petulant frown as he realized she wasn't running to the Big Lug, crying and screaming as he anticipated.

No, if anything, the little bird looked as cool and calm as the Bats.

 _So, my little present wasn't enough to convince you to call Batsy_? He reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie. _Well, let's see how you like my next gift._

"Kill Fonzie."

...

It wasn't like he had been _forbidden_ from leaving the Bunker. Not that he'd have listened even if he was. Every able-bodied member of the Sirens was needed to help find and stop the Joker before he could manage to accomplish whatever he had planned.

And as far as he was concerned, every able body included _him_.

Robin was not only a crucial member of Batman Inc., but he considered himself the most suitable member to take down the Clown Prince of Crime. Kean, Drake, and Father disagreed with him, of course.

Not that he much cared about Drake's opinion.

Kean and Father refused to let him go out on solo patrols because they feared he'd get hurt while dealing with members of the undead. As if that was even remotely a possibility.

The only time he got to leave the Bunker was when he was either in Drake's company or Quinn's.

As if _he_ needed a babysitter.

His fingers clamped down on the steering wheel and his mouth thinned into a hard, unforgiving line. _If anyone needs a sitter_ , he thought peevishly, _it's Drake_. How many times had Drake managed to get himself captured or kidnapped? How many times did he require help to get out of some situation he found himself?

 _And yet_ I _need the babysitter_? His _ffff_ bounced around the interior of the car. He was nowhere near as foolish as those who wore the suit before him.

He was the son of Batman, after all.

The grandson of the great Ra's al Ghul.

He was the best to ever take up the mantle of Robin.

His skills spoke for themselves. _And well they should_ , he thought as he navigated his way around the remnants of a roadblock. He had not only been trained by Batman but by the finest swordsmen, and teachers his mother could hire.

He was a trained assassin, the best to ever come out of the League of Assassins. Not even Deathstroke was able to defeat him in hand-to-hand combat. Copperhead proved no match for him. Even Cheshire found herself outmatched by him. He had yet to square off against Lady Shiva, but he imagined he'd defeat her without any problems whatsoever.

 _Yes_ , he decided as he navigated a turn, _I am the most qualified to handle the Joker_. Hadn't he proven how capable he was after Pennyworth got kidnapped? Wasn't it him who figured out it was the Joker who did it? Hadn't he gotten him back?

He had.

And when Drake, Todd, and Commissioner Gordon found themselves incapacitated by the Joker's _Venom_ , hadn't he been the one to rescue them? Wasn't he the one who got them to safety before the Joker could finish them off?

He had.

His soft _Tt_ broke the silence as he circumnavigated his way around some abandoned cars and other debris left in the middle of the road. He didn't care what Kean, Drake or even Father had to say about it. There was only one way of dealing with a man as evil as the Joker.

It was the same way they dealt with the undead.

Against them, the only types of weapons useful were a gun or sword. And both worked on a flesh and blood man like the Joker. Even Todd, were he there, would agree with him about that.

Killing the undead was one of the few things he and Todd actually agreed upon.

Father, of course, expressly forbid him from killing anything or anyone during his last visit home.

When he protested, citing how giving death to the undead was an act of mercy, Father replied that, _"Just because we are in the middle of an apocalypse does not mean we let go of the ideals we have upheld for so long. We are the example that people can look to and mimic. We prove people can survive without resorting to killing each other."_

" _It is not abandoning our ideals to give people peace," he argued. "It is an act of mercy. Even Kean believes so."_

 _"Raya sees they have no quality of life and chooses a way of handling them that is ethical and humane."_

 _"Why do you not take her to task for her choice?"_

 _"For that very reason, Damian," Father said as he turned back to the controls of the computer. "It is her choice."_

 _"But I am not allowed to make the same choice?"_

 _"You can." A small smile graced Father's features. "When you're older."_

He hadn't understood why Kean could euthanize the undead, but he couldn't. _Even Kai and Rose can use such measures when they go on patrols._

It felt hypocritical to him that his cousins could use lethal measures, but he was forbidden from it. _They should not be allowed to kill if I am not allowed to kill._

His musings got interrupted when a member of the undead stumbled out in front of him. Robin spun the wheel, narrowly missing the horribly decayed creature.

Traversing the roads could be quite challenging. When they weren't littered with the undead, they were crowded with cars, garbage, and other items people discarded.

The answer to keeping the undead out was to build walls and barricades that would prevent them from getting near specially designated safe zones. They had done so in Gotham, Blüdhaven, Central City, and even Metropolis.

He imagined cities everywhere had done the same.

A horde of infected blocked the entrance to where he wanted to go. No matter. The next entrance would work just as well. He braked in an alleyway between two medium-sized buildings across from the converted factory that Negan dubbed the Sanctuary. His eyes narrowed as plumes of smoke rose up towards the smooth blue sky.

 _What happened?_ He wondered, brow puckering. Had there been a need to use explosives to control the undead? _Or_ , he thought with rising dread, _has the Joker finally revealed himself_?

Neither situation was good. _Why didn't Kean radio for help_?

That, more than anything bothered him the most.

Robin exited the vehicle, jumped up to grab the lowest rung of a fire escape ladder, and quickly pulled himself up. He continued to the sixth-floor landing. It took him no time at all to open a window and climb inside. The room was empty. A thick coating of dust covered the floor, desks, and chairs.

Cobwebs thick as cotton balls hung from the ceiling and covered the windows. Deeper inspection revealed a sniper scope on a tripod at one of the windows. On the floor, a man, arms and legs, and mouth wrapped in tape. Robin moved to him and pulled the tape off.

"He bound me," the man rasped. "Took my goddamn revolver and my clothes before knocking my ass out."

His clothes? Robin's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. _Why would he... of course! To get inside the Sanctuary!_

Robin moved to the window and looked through the scope and saw Kean standing beside Negan in front of the Sanctuary. Two SUVs were burning in the yard and men were scrambling to douse the flames before they could spread to the main buildings. He raised the round scope and saw a face he would recognize anywhere on the roof of the Sanctuary.

Green hair framed a wild halo around an unnaturally white face...

…

On a rooftop across from the Sanctuary, a woman watched the commotion through the scope of her rifle. Her thick lips curled into a sneer. How she would love to put a bullet in the dark-haired woman standing beside the _cabron_ with the baseball bat.

 _You should never have lived_ , she told her silently. _You should have died with the meta-freak._

What was Mictlantecuhtli thinking in allowing Fenix to escape so she could give birth to another abomination?

Oh, the temptation to pull back on the trigger and test whether Fenix could outrun a bullet was high. However, she stifled that urge, telling herself that she must exercise patience, and wait for the signal.

Soon, she'd have her vengeance.

Soon, she'd correct the one blip on her otherwise spotless record.

Her walkie vibrated, alerting her to the possibility that she might be about to get permission to finally add Fenix's name to her already extensive list of conquests.

She reached down and picked the walkie up. Hope it was the _payaso_ telling her to go ahead and take her revenge bubbled inside her. Mictlan was tired of waiting.

 _She_ was tired of waiting.

"Kill Fonzie."

Short, simple and succulent.

She made a soft sound, much like that of a jaguar with the scent of her prey in her nostrils.

Mictlan had been given the go.

She was told do.

 _Kill_.

It wasn't Fenix, but it was the next best thing in her mind. She hungered to put a bullet in the brain of that filthy degenerate with the baseball bat. A smile stretched across her full lips, illuminating the dozens of black lines etched permanently into her skin.

Ridding the world of men like Negan pleased her almost as much as eliminating meta-humans like Superboy.

 _Almost_.

She set the walkie back on the ground and reached for the M40A3 sniper rifle she brought with her. Fenix would remember this weapon. She would know who used it. Anticipation had her belly quivering, her heartbeat quickening, her fingers tingling.

She took a breath, just one. It was enough to stem the tidal wave of bloodlust flowing through her.

Mictlantecuhtli had appointed Mictlan as his representative of the nine levels of the underworld. She was the trials that the fallen must pass to find peace in the afterlife. She brought the bones of her dead to Mictecacihuatl to honor the deity for her role in Mictlan's earthly creation.

Excitement peaked as she dropped a round into the chamber, heard the _click_ which told her that the moment had come. It was that time when everything slowed down and every thought, every action, seemed to last for an eternity, and yet only a second had elapsed.

Mictlan knew it was only a matter of waiting for when her target would turn his head towards her. Then she would take the shot, the only one needed to add Negan's name to her list of conquests. The man was little more than one more step taken to achieve her vengeance upon the woman at his side.

Her index finger touched the trigger.

All it would take was a simple squeeze. She took a split second to breathe, and then she instinctively and efficiently applied the proper amount of pressure.

 _..._

Christopher was just entering the yard of the Sanctuary when he heard the click of a bullet being loaded into the chamber of a high-powered assault rifle. His mother was in far more trouble than she realized. He searched the crowd but didn't see any sign of her.

No, what he saw was _Rose_ in Mom's armor. She stood just outside the entrance of the Sanctuary with Negan and a few of his men.

That Rose had no notion of the potential danger she was in was crystal clear. Not that she'd care. His sister could be strapped to a ticking bomb and still say she was perfectly safe. _She's so like mom there_.

He only had a few seconds to get to her and the man she was talking with before the shooter would fire at one or both.

Time.

It all came down to time. Everything, Kai realized as his blood ran cold, came down to time. Second, minute, or hour. All three were entities of the same linear property, and all of them came with different units used to measure their property. Knowing if he had seconds, minutes or hours could make all the difference in the world between a plan being a success or a failure.

Here, one second, barely the span of an indrawn breath, was going to make all the difference between Rose living or dying. Well, he wasn't anywhere as fast as Flash or even his own father and grandfather, but he was faster still than a bullet.

Ten seconds.

That was the amount of time it'd require for him to cover the distance between him and his sister.

He was already three-quarters of the way across the yard when the assassin pressed down on the trigger.

...

Rose spotted the figure on the roof of the Sanctuary while trying to tamp down the urge to slug Negan. A frown puckered her brow. _Does he have men on the roof_?

She couldn't recall ever seeing anyone up there before. And Mom had never mentioned having anyone patrol the roof.

Realization dawned when the sun glinted off his bone-white face. _There you are, you son of a bitch_ , she thought, fingers curling into her palms. _We've finally found you._

Anger and hate burned in her belly.

Seconds later it turned into fear as she spied Christopher on the opposite end of the yard. _Kai_? Worry for her brother's safety caused her heart to beat a hard staccato against her ribcage. _What are you doing here? Why aren't you in the Bunker?_

Before she had a chance to call out a warning to him, he took flight, becoming a moving blur coming straight at her and Negan.

 _What the_...? was all she had time to think before she found herself grabbed around the waist and yanked off her feet.

…

Robin was about to radio Rose and tell her about having spotted the Joker on the roof of the Sanctuary when something moved just at the edge of his visual field. He swung the scope down to the yard in time to see his oldest cousin, Christopher, standing just outside the gates that hung across the front entrance.

Seeing Kai at the Sanctuary momentarily distracted him. _Why is he here_? He waited, half-expecting Drake or Kean to show up in one of their armored vehicles. When they didn't, his curiosity and concern got piqued even more.

 _Where are they_?

Kean didn't allow either Kai or Rose to come to the Sanctuary. Not that Kai listened. He journeyed to the compound often to check on Kean. He'd accompanied him a few times, acting as a lookout while Kai slipped inside.

The last thing his cousin told him before leaving the Bunker that morning was that he was going to go to the Hilltop to visit with Rovia.

 _So, why is he not at the Hilltop_? He followed that thought with, _And why is Rose here dressed as Fenix?_

A frown feathered his brow as he considered the reasons. The most logical was they had seen the smoke from the fires and come to make sure Kean was safe.

 _Yes_ , he decided with a slight nod. That made sense. _She's their mother. They'd want to make sure she hadn't come to any harm_.

Suddenly, Kai launched himself across the yard, heading straight for Rose and Negan. _What the_...?

He didn't have long to wonder as a rifle fired...

* * *

 **A/N** : Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	34. Thirty-Four

Roy could do nothing but stand there and watch as chaos and confusion engulfed the Sanctuary. His mind whirled as he tried to process everything going on and come up with a logical explanation for it. The first SUV exploding he could excuse as someone — likely after an order given by Negan or his prick henchman, Simon — making a point to Slade Wilson about who ran this dog and pony show.

He found himself half-hoping Wilson got killed in the explosion. It'd save them the hassle of having to take the bastard down themselves. He should have known better than to get his hopes up, though.

Even the devil didn't want Slade Wilson.

When the second SUV erupted in a huge ball of flame, though, he was forced to admit _someone_ else was behind what was going on.

Someone was definitely trying to send a message.

And it didn't take him all that many guesses about _who_ that someone was.

Or who they intended the message for.

 _The Joker's gotten tired of waiting for Raya to do what he wants_ , he thought as he made his way through the brigade trying to combat the flames to the supply van Negan had Daryl placed in before hell erupted. Daryl sat on the ground behind the supply van. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, but he looked otherwise unharmed. _Well, from the van knocking him around_ , he corrected silently. He was recovering from the gunshot he took to his shoulder still.

"Hell's going on?" He asked when he spotted Roy. "Damn place is coming down around our ears."

"The Joker's gotten tired of waiting for Raya to do what he wants."

"Yeah?" Daryl squinted one eye as he looked up at him. "And what's that?"

Roy was about to tell him but stopped when Christopher came tearing into the yard like a bat shot straight outta hell.

 _Kai_? He frowned. _Why's he here_?

Not that he needed all that many guesses about why he was there. Shit hitting the fan meant the Joker or Slade Wilson was involved. That meant they needed to take their respected posts and be ready for whatever either could have planned. Wasn't that why Rose was there? _And in her mother's armor_?

"Hell's the kid doing here?"

Before he could reply to Daryl or call out to the kid in question, Kai blew across the yard, heading straight for where his sister and Negan stood by the front steps. Fear bubbled beneath Roy's skin as he wondered what the hell was going on. Then he heard someone scream. He turned as Ian or Edgar — he couldn't tell which of the twins it was from this distance— stumbled against the fence keeping the infected contained, clutching at his right arm. Blood soaked through his shirt and stained his fingers.

 _An assassin_ , he thought as men armed with assault rifles came tearing out of the Sanctuary. _That's why the kid's here._

That thought soon spiraled into another: The Joker was pulling out all the stops now. There was no iff's, and's or but's about it. It was a blitzkrieg. _The Joker's tired of waiting,_ he thought as people scrambled to find some sort of cover. _He's coming at us from all sides to force Raya into contacting Batman_.

Not that she'd do it. No, Raya made it absolutely clear to him during their drive to Alexandria that she'd never give the Clown Prince what he wanted. _She'd sooner cut her tongue out than give that pasty-faced son of a bitch what he wants._

The smell of fresh blood sent the infected into a mindless frenzy. They strained against their chains, blackened fingers reaching for the bleeding boy, and groaning with their want, need. Their incessant droning grated on Roy's already frayed nerves. He tamped his frustration down and scanned the roof for signs of a man with a bone-white face, bright green hair, and a crimson smile. _Where are you, you son of a bitch? I know you're up there and watching the chaos you're causing._

And he was enjoying it _._

"What'n hell you standing there for?" Daryl grumbled. "Ain't you supposed to be doing something other than babysit my ass?"

"Yeah, I am." He looked down at the scowling man. "I'm to call in the cavalry if things go to shit."

 _And I'm supposed to do it while keeping an eye on your ornery ass,_ he added as he touched the earpiece in his left ear.

"Double R? Are you there, Double R?"

There was no answer. Roy swallowed his frustration and fear. _He could already be on his way here_ , he thought. _He could be heading to Hilltop to pick up Jesus. There's no reason to think or believe he's been captured by the Joker or any of his goons._

"Double R," he tried again. "Are you there, Double R?"

Again, no response. _Dammit, Tim_! Roy groused as people continued to scream and shout. _I know she ordered radio silence, but we've got a situation here!_

"Double R, look, you need to get to the Sanctuary as soon as possible. I repeat, get to the Sanctuary as soon as possible. The Joker's here and he's unleashed all sorts of hell."

There was a click in his earpiece and then sound. Only, it wasn't Red Robin who answered his call for help.

"Where'n hell's this Sanctuary?" Red Hood growled. "And where'n hell is Kit?"

...

A bullet was _not_ faster than him. He had the blood of Superman in his veins. Granted, Kid Flash or Flash was faster than Superman, but that wasn't what was important. Not at that moment. No, all that mattered was that he was faster than the bullet about to leave the chamber of that assassin's rifle.

Kai gathered himself just as the shooter squeezed the trigger. The world around him became a blur as he covered the last few feet separating him from his sister and the man who might soon become his step-father. _Well, father, really_ , he realized as he attenuated to the sound of the bullet to track its trajectory. His birth father, as well as the man who would've raised him, died before he was born. There were only two men to enter his life that might have filled that void: Slade Wilson and Rick Grimes.

 _Wilson didn't stick around long enough for us to forge any sorta father-son relationship and Mr. Grimes already had a son_.

Not that Mr. Grimes hadn't acted like a dad when they were together. He imparted the kinda wisdom that Kai believed his would have had either of them lived. They shared things he couldn't share with Mom, talked about things he couldn't with her, and did things that only fathers, and sons could do. The time he got to spend with Mr. Grimes was filled with some of the best moments of his life.

Moments he'd like to have more of while there was still time for him to have them.

He just wasn't sure those moments were ones he wanted, much less could have with a man like Negan.

Christopher buried his thoughts and feelings as the whistle the bullet made as it streaked towards its target got louder. His lips peeled back from his lips in a wordless snarl as he felt the bullets heat along the back of his neck. _You won't beat me_ , he thought as he grabbed Negan and his sister. Their surprised grunts rang in his ears, but he ignored them as he carried them out of the bullets deadly path.

If the bullet hit him, so be it. He was one-quarter Kryptonian. A regular bullet would be like a needle in his arm. Long as they were safe was all that mattered to him. He deposited them inside the Sanctuary's dim interior as a man outside started screaming in pain.

His cries got drowned out by the excited buzz of the undead. Kai didn't have to think hard about what elicited such a reaction. He'd been around enough of the undead to know they only got excited about one thing: fresh blood.

"Help me!" The man pleaded. "Please, Jesus! Someone help me before they get a hold of me!"

Kai ran a hand over the back of his neck and swallowed back the _Neganism_ that sprang to mind. He _should_ go and help the man. It was _sorta_ his fault that he got shot and all. He turned, intending to do just that but Rose stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"To help whoever is out there shouting."

"I'll go with you."

"No."

"No?" He all but _heard_ her frown. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean you're not going out there with me." His lips twitched as she harrumphed. "You're gonna do what I tell you."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Rose growled as the man's screams quieted. "And why should I?"

"Cause I'm the oldest."

"So?"

"So, it means you're to stay inside the Sanctuary." He heard her indrawn breath and sent her a look from over his shoulder. "I'm serious, little bird. Stay inside the Sanctuary. And," he added as his gaze swept the interior of the building and counted all the places a well-trained sniper could make a kill shot. "Make sure to avoid doors, windows and any part of the upper floor."

It wasn't like he needed to tell his sister why she needed to avoid doors and windows. He moved to the opening and scanned the surrounding rooftops and windows for a glimpse of the assassin. Silently, he ran through the possible list of shooters.

Deadshot was a possibility, but unlikely given he hadn't been heard from in a long time. Wilson currently had an agreement with Negan. He wasn't likely to kill him while the partnership still proved useful. That left Mictlan as the only practical suspect. _She's carried a grudge against Mom since she failed to kill her while she was pregnant with me_.

"What the shit?" Negan exploded then. "Why the fucking fuck did you—"

"There's a sniper on the roof of one of the other buildings." Christopher heard his sister's soft gasp. He sent her an easygoing smile. "Don't worry, I've got this," he said, his tone intentionally light. "You just stay here and keep him," he jerked a thumb at Negan, "from doing anything that will likely get him killed."

Negan's face suffused with hot color as his insult registered. He took a threatening step towards Christopher but his sister's hand on his arm stopped him. He shot a furious look at Rose and nodded his head in his direction.

"Who the fuck is this fuc—"

"I'm _her_ son," Christopher informed him in a low, warning tone. "That's who _I_ am."

Surprise raced across Negan's features as realization about who he was dawned. Then he spewed a litany of words Kai only heard his uncle Jason say when he was _really_ pissed off. _Even Merle Dixon didn't say half the crap Negan does_ , he mused as moved went to the door. Course, that was because his brother, Daryl kept a tight lid on his older brother's mouth.

Kai peeked outside just as there was another _click._ Another bullet being primed and readied, he realized. _If this assassin is Mictlan, well, she's definitely not giving up._ That begged him to question _why_. Negan was no longer a viable target. Mictlan wasn't capable of making such a tricky shot. She lacked the equipment for one and the skill for another. _Who else could she be aiming at_?

Only distantly did he consider the possibility she could be aiming at _him_.

Kai spotted both Roy and Mr. Dixon in the crowd outside. As quickly as he considered them targets, he discarded them. It made no sense for Mictlan to shoot either man. _She is about the perfect target_ , he thought as Roy reached up to touch his earpiece. She chose people closely related to her target. It maximized the pain, fueled the feeling of helplessness. _There's no way she knows about Mom's connection to them_ , he decided.

"Kai?" Worry and concern made his sister's voice thin and reedy. "Kai, what is it?"

"The shooter is preparing to take another shot."

"Who the fuck is this fuck?" Negan demanded in a tone like velvet steel. "And who the fuck are they after?"

"My guess?" He half-turned towards him. "You."

"Me?" Negan's eyes narrowed into thin slits. His knuckles bled white as he clenched Lucille. Kai found himself surprised the bat didn't splinter from how hard Negan gripped it. "Why would this motherfucking dick suck cunt fucking fuck be after me?"

"Because you matter to Mom." Rose curled her fingers into his leather jacket. "The Joker is not stupid. He knows she cares about you. She stays with you because she cares about you."

"Yeah, and?"

"And he's going to use that... use _you,_ " she clarified. "Because he knows the best way to attack Mom right now is by attacking you."

"Gotta tell you, kiddo." Negan chuckled darkly. "That's goddamn hilarious."

"Why?"

"Don't you worry about that," he told her in a surprisingly gentle voice. "You just go and do as I said."

She made a face. "Watch Jordan?"

"Mhm."

"And what do you plan on doing?" Kai asked him. "While she's watching Jordan?"

"Me?" He placed Lucille to his shoulder. "I'm going to go catch this fuck and beat the holy fuck out of him for killing a buncha kids and upsetting the fuck outta your mom."

Christopher went to tell him that it'd be easier to juice a rock than capture the Joker, but the shooter took their second shot. The yard became pandemonium as the people combating the burning vehicles sought shelter. Despite being inside the interior of the Sanctuary, Christopher still turned to shield Rose if he misjudged the shooter. His jaw dropped when he found Negan nudging his sister behind him.

He didn't like the man, not after everything his uncles and others said about him, but it was clear by the way he willingly put himself in front of his sister that he cared more for her safety than his own. _This is gotta be the man Mom sees_ , he thought as people pushed by them to find a safe place. _She wouldn't be with him if there wasn't_ some _sorta good in him._

Still, Negan wasn't a nice man. Not the kinda nice man his mother deserved, anyway. He bullied people, talking down to them, and insulting them for his own amusement. People had no choice but to provide for him. Refusal resulted in deadly consequences.

 _As Mr. Grimes found out_ , Kai thought with a pang. However, Kai had no choice but to admit that Mr. Grimes wasn't a nice man anymore, either. He stopped being that moralistic, law-abiding man they knew him as when he led his people to Negan's outpost and killed everyone. _He brought what happened upon himself. It's his fault that his people died_.

"Where is Mom?"

He aimed the question at his sister, but Negan answered.

"She left the Sanctuary with that big pain in the ass mutt of hers to go see Prick."

"Mom's not here?" Fear chilled the sweat dotting his brow. "But... she knows not to leave the Sanctuary without letting either my Uncle Paul or Tim know where she is going."

"Her royal fucking highness is not supposed to leave the Sanctuary without running it by me first and did."

"Mom doesn't need your permission to do anything." His fists bunched at his side. "She's not your property."

"I know she's not my fucking property," he rasped. "But she needs to make goddamn sure I know where the fuck she is so I can keep her cute li'l ass safe."

"Mom doesn't need you..." he began, but Rose interjected before he could finish his statement.

"Kai..."

He glanced at her. "What is it?"

"Slade Wilson is here at the Sanctuary."

His eyes narrowed at hearing _that_ name. "Wilson is here?"

"Yeah, kid," a familiar voice rumbled from behind him. "Imagine that."

…

Mictlan saw through the scope of her rifle how the round she discharged found a home in the arm of a young brown-haired boy and not the brain of the man in the leather jacket. Her teeth gnashed at her perfect shot missing her intended target. She never missed! _Never_! That bullet would have pierced his flesh had that filthy abomination not grabbed him and his pretty _mamacita_ and moved them out of the bullet's way.

No matter.

She still had two more bullets left in the chamber.

Two more chances to fulfill her task.

Two more opportunities to take someone else that the Fenix loved from her.

Mictlan went to again take aim at the leather jacket wearing _cabron_ but found she couldn't get a clear shot at him because of the son of the abomination standing in front of him. Knowing her window of opportunity was falling shut, Mictlan steadied herself in the vee formed by two air vents, the rifle balanced perfectly atop the steel ducts.

She drew in a breath and released it slowly as she waited for the _cabron_ to step into just the right place. He would provide her with the opportunity to take her shot. His arrogance wouldn't allow a boy to protect him.

If not, well then, she would honor Mictlantecuhtli by putting a bullet through the son of Superboy.

It wasn't like the _payaso_ would be all that upset if she killed the abomination instead of the _cabron_ in the leather jacket.

Her teeth flashed as she took aim at the boy standing just on the other side of the door...

…

From his vantage point atop the Sanctuary, the Joker watched everything going on below. Glee coursed through him. He threw his arms wide and spun around, cackling with his joy and contentment. Oh, sure, Fonzie hadn't gotten the bullet through the brain as he ordered... but seeing all the little people running around in a panic was almost worth the aggravation of Mictlan failing to do as ordered!

 _Almost_ , he thought as screams and shouts echoed from below, _but not completely_.

Oh, well, he decided as he did another little jig. It didn't matter if the Big Lug didn't bite it right then. He'd just kill him another time. He could be adaptable when the circumstances called for it. _Maybe I'll introduce him to that bat of his_!

For now, there was another card up his sleeve. One he'd been waiting for just the right moment to play.

Oh, and what a card it was, too!

 _Let's see how you handle my army of Jokerfied corpses, Toots!_

His mangled lips stretched into a wide smile as he pulled the walkie from his pocket.

"Release the horde!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	35. Thirty-Five

A mile away from Hilltop, a black van with dark-tinted windows sat between two huge trees. To the untrained eye, it appeared like any other abandoned vehicle. A month's worth of grime covered it from bumper to bumper. The right side had bullet-sized holes running its length. The left had a huge dent in the fender. Closer inspection revealed the windows were all wiped clean and the tires new.

Well, new as new could be in a world bereft of the means to manufacture such things as tires.

The back door of the van opened as a dark-skinned man wearing a pair of coveralls a faded shade of gray dashed across the road. He quickly climbed in and pulled the door shut behind him.

"The savior there?" The driver didn't turn around to look at him. "You physically see him?"

"He's there." His deep baritone rumbled throughout the van. "Saw him talking with the bird's brat right before I snuck out."

"Good." The driver settled back in his seat. "Get ready then. Boss should send word soon about what he wants us to do next."

"We're not kidnapping the savior?"

"Boss thinks that's boring." The driver popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "Wants to really stick it to the bird by kidnapping the savior and killing Negan."

"More of his games." The man heaved a disgusted sigh. "Boss loses because he overthinks shit."

The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "You wanna tell him that?"

"Hell no. I like breathing." He searched the van for a black bag. "Where's my stuff?"

A black bag was tossed beside him by the man in the passenger seat. "In there."

He pulled a clown mask out of the bag, slipped it on, and turned to the man sitting in the passenger seat.

"Four of us to take down the savior," he rumbled. "Boss has lost what few marbles he had."

Another man, nicknamed Happy because of the mask he wore, looked up from where he was loading a grenade launcher.

"Just us four?" He barked a laugh. "You're the crazy one if you think it's just us four."

"It ain't?"

"Hell no," Happy said. "Boss is adamant about us getting our hands on the savior."

"There's six other guys inside Hilltop," came from the man in the driver's seat. "That's ten. More than enough for this job."

"Twelve guys," Happy corrected. "Don't forget Hammer and Sickle are nearby in case we need some extra muscle."

"Even the savior can't fight those odds." The man in the passenger seat adjusted his mask. "All them fancy moves of his are useless."

"Boss gonna give the signal soon?"

"If that tattooed woman who helped get the boss outta Gotham don't fulfill her promise to kill that dumb shit, Negan, he will radio us with the go ahead."

The dark-skinned man sighed. "That witch ain't got a snowball's chance in hell of killing Negan. Man is like a goddamn cat."

"Cats run outta lives."

"And the Boss has enough explosives planted inside that factory to turn it into a crater." Happy passed the grenade launcher up to the driver. "Negan's not gonna make it to the end of the day."

The walkie clipped to a cup holder chirped then, ending all conversation.

"Release the horde!"

"You heard the Boss," Happy said. "It's go time."

...

" _She's in a safe zone called Alexandria._ " Harper's voice crackled across the comm. " _I took here there before the Joker unleashed hell here at the Sanctuary."_

"The son of a bitch is there then?" Jason's fingers tightened on the plane's controls. "You've seen him?"

" _I..._ Screams muted out Harper for a couple of seconds. Jason's nerves, already strung taut as piano wire, sizzled as he waited for Harper to confirm or deny the Joker being there at this Sanctuary. _I'm confident he's here, though. There's no way he couldn't be. Not with everything that's going on."_

"What can I expect when I get there?"

Not that he didn't have a good idea about what to expect. Anarchy and that pasty-faced freak went together like peanut butter and chocolate. _How many people has he killed with this latest game of his?_ His last game saw dozens die.

" _There's an assassin..."_

 _"_ Mictlan."

" _How do you know it's Mictlan?"_

Jason could almost _feel_ Harper's frown. His lips inched up into the ghost of a smile.

"She's the only assassin who is not only crazy enough but has a big enough grudge against Kit that she'd willingly work with someone like the Joker."

" _Great_." Harper's sigh was drowned out by more screams. " _All we need is more crazy. Not like we don't have enough of that here."_

"We're all crazy, Harper," Jason couldn't help but joke. "Haven't you figured that out by now?"

" _You're a comedian_ ," Harper grumbled. " _When will you arrive?"_

"Ten minutes."

Give or take a few minutes, he amended as he checked his gauges.

" _You flying to the Bunker_?"

"No, I want to get to Kit." He started making his descent. "You sure she's still in Alexandria? You know how she can be when it comes to the Joker."

" _She hasn't come back here to the Sanctuary so I'm pretty sure she must still be there,"_ Harper said. _"That sheriff she was traveling with a few years ago lives there with his son._ "

Jason smirked. "That'll keep her put for about five minutes."

" _Good point._ " There was a sigh. " _I will send the hunter she's spoken about to help keep her away from here_."

"Think he's capable of it? She can be difficult to reason with when family and friends are being threatened."

" _I think he will manage just fine_."

Curiosity about this hunter chased away some of his tension. He was about to ask more but shouting and panicked screams muted out the sound.

"What's going on Harper?" He didn't growl it. Well, he didn't sound like Batman, anyway. "Talk to me."

" _This assassin just took a second shot_."

"Who is she aiming for?"

" _My guess_?" There was the grinding of metal. A gate post or fence being opened was Jason's guess. " _Negan. He'd be the best person to take down outside of you and the rest of the family."_

 _"_ Not happening." Just because he didn't like the prick didn't mean he'd let the Joker bamboozle him. "Keep your head down. I'll do a flyover on my way to Kit. See if I can spot Mictlan in her little sniper's nest."

" _Could you do a flyover of the top of the Sanctuary, instead."_

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Is that where you think the Joker is hiding?"

" _Can you think of a better place for him to hide and watch the action?_ "

No, he couldn't think of a better place for the Joker to watch the anarchy he created, he realized as he banked to the left. "Will do," he said as he straightened out. "Hood out."

...

There was one thing Slade hated more than anything. It was feeling guilty. It always took him a while to get there as his temper was not the standard flash-and-fade kind. Adie told him once he liked to wallow in anger and self-pity. He denied her claim. Scoffed at it. Told her he did no such thing.

He discovered how right she was after he was rescued from Lian Yu.

Everything changed after the Island. The _Mirakuru_ played only a small part in his change. The psychological and physical traumas he endured while in the hands of Fyers, the loss of Shado, and Billy and Oliver's betrayals all crafted the man he was.

He could admit now he enjoyed the way temper bubbled and boiled inside him until it burst out in a surge of physical violence. His rage fueled him. It was what kept him going.

It made him strong.

Just like Negan's made him strong.

Only distantly did Slade acknowledge how his anger led to his defeat at the hands of the Fairy, as well as to his incarceration on the very Island he fought with every fiber of his being to get off.

His anger cost him his son, Joe.

Where he was, if he was alive, Slade didn't know. Every attempt to track him down met with abject failure. He had all but given up any hope of ever finding his son.

His daughter was a different matter, however.

Rose was the product of a brief affair he had with a Hmong woman he encountered after escaping the Island. He didn't learn of her birth until after Raya came to him and offered to spring him from his cell in exchange for his help in stopping the Scarecrow.

Rage filled him when he found out that the bastard intended to poison Rose if she didn't hand over the notes on some serum called _Inceptive_. He rode on the sizzle and burn of anger and hate and allowed it to blind him to what should have been the most important thing to him: _Rose_.

Rather than focus on protecting his daughter and stopping the bastard threatening to harm her, he allowed old feuds and promises to distract him. The result of his perfidy was losing his daughter, her mother and his freedom all at the same time.

He didn't want to lose Rose again. Not when he just managed to find her. However, the keen edge of anger coursing through him felt good.

It felt great, in fact.

Much of that fury was aimed at the Joker. However, a good portion of it was also directed at the man in front of him. The serpent dormant inside him awoke from its slumber at seeing his daughter so comfortable in Negan's presence.

Thick black ooze dripped from its fangs and caused every one of his nerves to pulsate with a corrosive mixture of anger and hate, love and lust, joy and disgust. 'She is his child now,' it whispered in his ear. 'She has chosen him over you.'

 _Be quie_ t. The serpent hissed as it slithered back into the dark caverns of his heart. _You don't know what you're talking about._

'You have lost her to a man not worthy of her love and affection.'

 _Never_ , he swore as he allowed his gaze to sweep over her. _Negan shall never take her from me_.

'He already has stolen her mother from you,' the snake simpered. 'What makes you think he will not take your daughter away from you, too?'

 _He won't take my daughter from me! I will kill the bastard before I let that happen!_

'Do it now… as she watches,' it hissed. 'Show her who her father is. Prove to her what you are willing to do to keep her safe.'

Slade battled the hissing serpent back. He would not allow it to bring harm to either his daughter or his dove. He exiled himself from them, allowed Raya to believe he was dead to keep from hurting her, her son, and their daughter.

He had cut himself off from them, from the distracting possessiveness that blazed within him whenever he thought about the woman and child that a cruel twist of fate and Oliver Queen had denied him a chance of getting to know. Ah, but the snake retaliated by coiling itself around his heart and squeezing until he thought the beating muscle would explode out of his chest.

"Look at her... isn't she lovely?'

Slade couldn't argue with the fiend. His daughter had grown into quite a beautiful young woman. Her eyes were green. And studied him now with practiced coolness.

"Hello, Father." She smiled, and that, too, was cool. "I see the Devil wasn't accepting assholes today."

"You sound unhappy to see me, Rose."

"Is that what I sound like? Unhappy?" she said it sweetly. Too sweetly, he realized, frowning. "Perhaps the reason for that is because you want to take me from my mother."

"You're my daughter," he reminded her. "Do not forget that."

"Donating sperm doesn't make you my father."

He sent her a long look of warning.

"I would mind your tongue, Rose."

"Or you'll what, Father?" She waved a hand to the people gathered around them. "In case you haven't noticed, there are lots of people here and quite a lot of them have guns."

That they wouldn't have any problem in turning on him should Negan give them the order to shoot.

"You will..." he started to say but Christopher placed a hand on his chest and gave him a none-too-gentle push back. The boy's strength caught him by surprise.

"I will toss you from here if you try to lay so much as one finger on my sister," he gritted from between clenched teeth. "Have I made myself clear?"

Slade locked eyes with the boys. "Crystal."

"Good." The kid turned away. "Then let's get to work."

Slade tamped down his irritation. "And what do you suggest we do first?"

"Search the Sanctuary."

Negan straightened up hearing that.

"And what the fucking fuck are we searching for?"

"Bombs." The kid glanced at him and then at Slade. "Knowing the Joker, he has this entire building rigged to blow."

"Why?" Negan's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "What the fuck does this fucking fuck hope to get out of blowing up my Sanctuary?"

"A laugh," was his grim reply.

...

"Where'n hell is it that I'm going?" Daryl asked as they made their way down a small alley between the Sanctuary and the building next to it. "And why am I going there when shit is hitting the fan here?"

"You're going home to Alexandria." Roy waved Daryl through a gate he opened. "I need someone there who stands a chance of keeping Raya there, as well." He looked back at the Sanctuary. "If she knew Kai and Rose were both here at the Sanctuary, she'd come rushing back."

 _And damn the consequences of it_ , he added silently. Not that he needed to explain that to Daryl. He could see that he understood without him having to elaborate.

"Yeah? Well, ain't happening." Daryl squinted at him as he helped push the heavy chain link fence back in place. "She'll keep her ass there or I'll tie her to a tree."

"Now _that_ I'd pay money to see," Roy lightly joked. "Not that she will stay tied up long."

"Why you thinking she won't?" He frowned. "I know how to tie some pretty damn secure knots. She won't easily get her ass outta them."

"Batman taught her how to escape every knot, binding, and cuff known to mankind." Roy glanced at him. "She's been trained by some of the best teachers in this world."

"Yeah, well," he grumbled as he followed Roy, "if I tie her ass up in multiple ways it will certainly slow her down, huh?"

"That it will," Roy agreed as he walked over to something covered by a tarp. "Do whatever you need to keep her away from the Sanctuary. I'd rather her pissed off than injured."

 _Or worse_ , he thought as he grabbed one corner of the tarp and started to lift it. Not that he needed to explain that to Daryl, either.

"She ain't coming back here. I guarantee it," Daryl promised as he helped him remove the tarp to reveal a customized black motorcycle. "Damn." He whistled long and low as he ran a hand over one handlebar. "Whose bike is this?"

"Hers." Roy couldn't help but be amused at the look of surprise on his face. "Didn't tell you she could ride a bike?"

"Hell no."

"Or fly a plane?" His grin stretched wider at his sigh. "Or that she's had to navigate a cruise ship during a hurricane?"

"She didn't talk about any of that shit." He climbed on the back of the bike with a grimace. "Gotta feeling she's left a whole lot out."

"Protecting her family is her first order." He nodded towards his injured shoulder. "You okay to ride?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Then get going before Simon or any of his cronies realize you're gone."

Not that he didn't plan on dealing with Simon and his cohorts at some point. He just planned on doing it once there was no further need for him to pretend he was one of the Saviors.

"What 'bout you?"

Roy backed away a few steps. "I'm going to stay and keep an eye on Rose and Kai. Make sure they don't do anything their mother would do."

"A'ight." Daryl nodded. "Be careful."

"You too, man."

...

A stroke of ill luck led to the second round she discharged ending up in the leg of a dark-haired man in a flannel shirt and faded jeans. Mictlan released a stream of vitriolic curses as the man screamed and fell down, clutching his leg.

She went to take aim again, believing her third bullet would be the one to find its home in either of her chosen targets, but she couldn't get a clear shot of either the abomination or the man with the baseball bat.

Not with all the _cucarachas_ running around and blocking her from lining up the kill shot.

Mictlan's fingers tightened on the rifle. She would have her offering to Mictlantecuhtli! She would not deprive him of the blood she promised him! She failed him when she did not end the life of _la bonita y pequeña Fénix_. She wouldn't fail him again. She'd put her final bullet in either the son of the abomination or that foul-mouthed man-child.

She swung her rifle back towards Negan when the man boldly emerged from his so-called Sanctuary, but the pandemonium in the yard made getting a clear shot at him impossible. If she didn't wait for the right opportunity, for a clear shot, she could end up shooting another of the _peons_ who served the _Bastardo_.

She couldn't waste her one bullet on one of the _cucarachas_ scurrying for cover.

She'd be patient.

The right moment would present itself.

It always did.

Then the abomination exited the building a few inches behind him. Mictlan's blood pumped beneath her skin. Through her rifle's scope, she saw the boy grab the man by the arm, spin him around. The two went face-to-face, saying words that Mictlan could tell were emotionally charged.

It was just the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

Her patience paid off.

In a few seconds, the brain matter of the foul-mouthed wretch would spray across the face of the abomination.

Her lips curled as she curved her finger around the trigger.

Soon, soon, she'd give Mictlantecuhtli what she promised him.

She breathed in, counted the seconds, and then slowly made to squeeze the trigger.

A sound, almost like a _phoo_! caught her attention. Mictlan frowned as she tried to place what the sound was. She looked just as a young boy with a green domino covering the upper portion of his face soared through the air on a thin cord. It didn't take much to realize he was heading towards the ledge where she perched.

Mictlantecuhtli told her it was time to leave.

Mictlan must never be seen by those walking the land of the living. She must never be caught by those that call them law enforcement. She must never be found by any of the heroes that protected this planet.

 _Mictlan must be a shadow._

Those were the only words Mictlantecuhtli said to her before he sent her out into the world to do his bidding.

Much as it frustrated her to fail to kill either the abomination or the leather jacket wearing Bastardo, she obeyed Mictlantecuhtli's orders without question.

Fate would grant her another time to fulfill her promise to Mictlantecuhtli and the _payaso_.

She would have her vengeance on _la bonita y pequeña Fénix._

It just wouldn't be that day.

Not with Robin so close to exposing her existence to the world.

Mictlan quickly stowed her rifle in its special carrying case before making her way down the fire escape and disappearing into a group of undead shuffling towards the Sanctuary.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	36. Thirty-Six

Dwight heading back to the Sanctuary to check on things did nothing to calm her. Even Rick placing a hand on her shoulder didn't stop her nerves from jumping beneath her skin or a wave of nausea rolling greasily through her belly.

All she could think about as she watched Dwight fade into the distance was it shouldn't be him going back to the Sanctuary, but her. The people there were her responsibility. She was, by her own admission, the Queen of the Castle.

Beyond that level of responsibility was also a personal one. Negan was there. And Jordan. She sent Rose to keep watch in case Slade or the Joker tried anything, and while she trusted completely in her daughter's abilities, they were still hers to protect.

Her gaze strayed to the flumes of smoke spreading across the sky. Whatever was going on at the Sanctuary was just the beginning of whatever that pasty-faced freak planned. His games were never simple. They were always multidimensional, complex affairs that left a swath of broken bodies once the game was over.

Negan would keep Jordan safe. _And Rose if she reveals herself_. If something really bad happened, if he felt they were not safe in the Sanctuary, he'd send them to Hilltop. _Or he'll bring them here himself._

Even knowing that did not lower her anxiety. Ordering herself to relax only made things worse. Logic failed to work, as well. Just because she knew things like anger and anxiety wouldn't do anything but divert her attention away from where she needed it meant nothing.

It was up to her to figure out what the Joker was planning. She was the puzzles expert. Yet, she'd failed to see exactly what he planned. _Stupid! How could you be so stupid_? Had she learned _nothing_ in all the years she spent working alongside Batman and the rest of the family?

Had she actually forgotten what dealing with a monster like the Joker was actually like? That pasty-faced son of a bitch _always_ required their full, undivided attention. _You look at every angle and possibility. every detail._ _You look at every detail. You leave no stone unturned or untouched_.

Not when it came to the Joker.

Raya breathed in slowly. Water, freshly turned dirt, flowers. _Death_. The comfort inside the familiar. It was a mildly disturbing thought. However, she couldn't deny how those smells soothed her enough to allow the panic and fear to recede so she could formulate how to respond to the Joker's newest tactic.

The first thing she needed to do was organize her players. She had to get them ready for whatever move the Joker would make next. She mentally went over which of her players were where. Roy and Rose were already making sure he couldn't get his hands on either Tarzan or Negan. Kai was at Hilltop with Paul. Ivy was keeping watch from the Bunker with Artemis. She would send Wonder Girl and Beast Boy to Oceanside, and Robin to the Kingdom with Red Robin.

Not that Tim would overly thank her for sticking him with the Devil's Spawn.

As for Rick, well, keeping him safe wasn't a problem. She would protect him, and his son, herself. A glance at his face revealed it was set in stone. She had seen that look enough while they were traveling together to know it meant one thing: he was working out how he was gonna keep her safe. Amusement quieted some of the anxiety doing bellyflops in her belly.

That protective nature was as deeply ingrained in him as it was in Bruce. It not only made Rick a good cop but a more than capable leader. Rick's desire to protect people, to do the right thing was what she respected most about him. That steadfast determination made him a valued ally for her side and a formidable enemy to the Joker's.

However, that same bullheadedness also led Rick down a dark and bloody path. His moral fiber got compromised somewhere after they parted. How, she didn't know. _We've all lost our way at some point because of this world_ , she thought as he shifted to say something to Aaron. _We managed to find our ways back. So will he. With our help._

Rick didn't stand a chance against the Joker. His training as a cop did not extend to someone with the violent history of the Clown Prince of Crime. He mostly dealt with drunk fools or idiots high on meth. His training didn't help him against Negan, a flesh-and-blood man bent by the death of his wife and corrupted by the world around them.

Against the Joker? It'd be like sending a baby duck to fight a dragon.

Batman lost to the Joker. Nightwing lost to him. Red Robin. Red Hood. Batgirl. Even with all the training she received from Batman, from Diana Prince, from all the others, she still lost to the Clown Prince. The only difference was that her training prepared her for this fight, this showdown, for him.

The last time she played one of the Joker's games with him, she almost crossed the line. Had Jason not managed to break through the haze of anger and hate clouding her mind, she might well have choked the damn clown to death.

A part of her — a deep and dark part — wondered if she should've ignored Jason and gone through with her plan to kill the pasty-faced bastard.

Another part of her — the one ruled by logic and molded by Batman's hand — reminded her that killing the clown turned her into what she feared becoming most: her father. Death gave the Joker what he wanted. _And I won't give him what he wants. No more than Robin or any of the others will._

Like the rest of her family, Raya wasn't afraid of the Joker. For all his masochistic and homicidal ways, for all the times he mysteriously defied death, the Clown Prince of Crime was still nothing more than a flesh-and-blood man. _Once you take away his guns, his chattering teeth, and remove anything containing his laughing gas, you see the Joker is nothing more than an ordinary man with a propensity for violence_.

His greatest power came from the twisted theatrical tricks he liked using. He intimidated his victims by playing upon the things they feared.

 _Even the Scarecrow wasn't as good as the Joker in the scare department_ , she thought as Rick sighed beside her. _He needed a toxin to scare people. The Joker just needs to smile._

The Joker's tactics moved her about as much as Alpha's.

Why should they impress her?

She lived with a man who used similar tactics for the first nine years of her life. Every day inside the Berkeley Estate brought some new horror, fresh pain or different trauma. The art of intimidation wasn't something she learned solely from Batman. It was a lesson first taught at the hands of a cruel master. She knew all about fear. It's face leered at her every time she closed her eyes.

No, as a man, the Joker did not terrify her.

How could he when her bastard of a father was the living embodiment of everything she feared? However, even she had to admit that she feared what the Joker could do to her family should he manage to get his hands on them. An image managed to superimpose itself over everything dominating her thoughts at that moment.

 _Blood, bone, and bits of gray matter coated the front of his black leather jacket, the neckline of his once snow-white t-shirt, and stained his slate-colored pants. What little remained of the top of his head still sported swatches of dark, matted hair. A glance to her right revealed the item used to bludgeon him to death..._

 _Lucille._

She slapped the image away but couldn't shake the mind-numbing terror left in its wake. Negan beaten to death with his own bat was a reality she feared coming to pass with every fiber of her being. The Joker proved he could beat a member of her family to death when he took a crowbar to Jason Todd.

Not once but _twice_.

Had she not managed to track down where he took Jason to reenact their "Deathiversary" and stopped him, the Joker might well have managed to finally carry out his goal of killing a Robin. _And he had enough dynamite in that building to make sure Jason's death was final_.

He'd have no problem whatsoever in using Lucille on Negan.

From Batman, she learned how to rise above self, above fear, above pain and do what was necessary for the good of all. She needed to teach that lesson to Rick and everyone here. _We fall, we rise. That's how we'll survive what that son of a bitch has planned._

These people were not from Gotham, though. Their greatest fear was in becoming one of the infected. They had never dealt with a man as mercurial, as merciless, as maniacal as the Joker.

Negan, for all he was cold, capricious, callous, and condescending was a teddy bear in comparison to the Clown Prince. _Negan has rules_ , she thought as she turned to survey the people of Alexandria. _The Joker believes rules get in the way of his having fun._

Rules were why the son of a bitch was playing this macabre game with them. Getting Batman to break his golden rule became the clown's goal after his first confrontation with him. Showing Batman he was no better than the rest of the crazies he brought to justice was the Clown Prince's entire reason for living.

Every game he came up with he designed with the sole intention of breaking Batman's iron resolve. It was the very reason behind his decision to kill a Robin.

 _And why he's coming after us now_.

Not that him coming after her and her family bothered them all that much. Being hunted by the Joker was a comfort to her and her family. There was familiarity in having him play his twisted, sick games with them. Would she give him what he wanted? Absolutely not. She wouldn't call Batman. She wouldn't ever give the Joker the satisfaction of sending for the Dark Knight.

 _First things first,_ she thought as she slowly turned to scan each person, assessing their capabilities, and determining where they could be best used should an attack come at Alexandria. She saw a few capable people amidst a swarm of others she suspected had hidden behind Alexandria's gates for the majority of the outbreak. She'd train them. She'd get them ready.

They'd learn just as others had learned.

If not, well, she'd find someone safe for them so they weren't in the way. People running around, screaming in terror or cowering in corners would hinder and not help. Keeping them calm, focused, that was how one controlled a crowd. Her uncle Jim taught her the importance of crowd control. In Gotham, it was a necessary skill for anyone in law enforcement to have.

The Gotham City Police Department were the first responders. They were the first line of defense against whatever or whoever was threatening the city. _And more often than not it's the Joker who is doing the threatening_. She remembered her uncle moving among a group of panicked people and quieting them with a few simply spoken words and calmly issued instructions.

Gentle guidance was needed here.

It'd help reduce the pandemonium that'd erupt once they started playing the final part of the Joker's game. Getting them organized into groups and assigning them tasks would get their attention off what was happening. If they were involved in the solution, their focus would be on doing what was necessary: _surviving_.

Anger and fear made people do stupid things. 'Stupid shit is what got a lotta people killed during the beginning of this shitfest,' Negan told her in one of their earliest conversations. He wasn't wrong. So many people died when this virus first hit because their fears caused them to make foolish mistakes. 'I got tired of seeing people die because they did dumb shit. So, I stopped them from dying by creating rules they had to follow. I created consequences for being stupid. I saved them. I am the answer.'

Negan became the leader of the Saviors largely to stop people from dying needlessly. Negan helped create safe places for people to live. He organized them into two groups, workers, and soldiers, based on what they were capable of doing. He established rules and consequences to make sure they kept focus on what mattered most: survival.

His intentions, while becoming skewed somewhere along the way, were still good. Negan did care about people in his own fashion. _He wouldn't be as angry with Rick as he is if he didn't care about what happened to those people in his satellite depot._

People were how things got done. They were a resource. It was a sad, but true fact. Skills were the currency of this new world. Negan recognized that. He exploited those skills for his own benefit. Raya never once denied the man wasn't capricious, condescending, cold, callous and cruel. She just knew there was more to him than that. Rick, Paul, the people here and at Hilltop all thought Negan a monster. He wasn't.

He was just a man trying to do what was necessary to save people from the real monsters that were out there. Were his methods ones she approved of? Hardly. However, she couldn't deny they didn't work.

If this world and Batman taught her anything, though, it was that people didn't need someone to save them. They needed to learn to save themselves. Many of those around her had done what was necessary to survive. Much of what they had done wasn't stuff they were proud of having done.

Even _she_ had done things she wasn't proud of.

Up until that moment, the biggest threats most of the people here faced were the hordes of infected, other groups of survivors, and starvation. Now they had a monster on their doorstep who wanted one thing... to watch the world burn.

The Joker changed the rules of the game when he started taking kids and killing them. Surviving would require everyone working together. _The Sirens, Hilltop, Kingdom, Oceanside, and Alexandria will have to come together and fight alongside Negan and the Saviors if there is any hope to survive_. Only by uniting all the communities together could they keep the Joker from exterminating them and ultimately achieve what he wanted: breaking Batman.

 _I won't let him win._ Her hands balled into fists. _I will kill him myself before I will let him have the last laugh_. She couldn't be reckless, though. She had to hunt the Clown Prince down in a way that wouldn't jeopardize the life growing inside her. Rick must have sensed what she was thinking because he curled a hand around her wrist.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking about... forget it. You're keeping your butt here."

She harrumphed. "I'm thinking of going and finishing breakfast for you and your kids."

"Like hell you were." He didn't say it unkindly. If he had she could bust his balls without feeling an ounce of guilt about it. "You're planning on going after this son of a bitch down. You're not. Not alone, anyway."

"Quit your worrying," she said breezily. "I'm not planning on going after him at the moment."

It wasn't a total lie. She _wasn't_ planning on going after the Joker right at that moment.

"Yes, you are." His tone was like tempered steel. "I know you, Raya. I know how you think. You wade into hordes without batting an eyelash. You wouldn't think twice about going after this fella by yourself."

"Well, I don't plan on it," she assured him. "Not at the moment anyway."

"What are you planning then?"

"I'm planning on preparing you and your people for whatever he might do next."

Again, it wasn't a total lie. She was planning on getting Rick and his people ready for what the Joker might do next. _He just doesn't need to know that I'm planning on going after the Joker once I'm confident they're okay._ Not that she needed to worry about him figuring out that was her ulterior motive. His next words proved he knew she wasn't being truthful.

"Bullshit." His fingers tightened their hold on her wrist. Almost as if he feared she'd up and disappear in a puff of smoke. "You're planning on confronting this son of a bitch because you believe his being here is somehow your fault. It's not."

Now, that, she decided, was mildly galling. She _had_ been considering going after the Joker for just that reason. Preventing him from harming any more people was up to her. Bruce put her here for the sole purpose of making sure people survived anything and everything that might get thrown at them. The Joker definitely fit into the _anything_ and _everything_ categories.

He was at the top of both, in fact.

"Rick, you have to understand that…"

"The answer is no." She frowned at him. If it had been her kids or any of the Saviors who she gave that look, they'd have instantly apologized. Rick just met her glare with his own. "You're staying here," he said, his tone firm. "And that's final."

"Considering how I was planning on doing that, anyway..."

"No, what you were trying to figure out was how to sneak outta here without me catching wind of it."

Now _that_ made her squirm. She had forgotten how good of a cop Rick was. _He is so much like Bruce when he sets his mind to figuring out something_. Her uncle'd love having a man with his skills on his team. Good cops were needed in this world. Raya believed Rick was still a good cop. _And a good man underneath it all_.

"Raya..."

He could also be an extremely annoying one at times, too.

"Okay, fine." She tried to keep her tone light but dammit she wasn't happy that he figured out what she was planning to do once things here got settled. "Maybe I was trying to figure out how to sneak out of here without you noticing I'm gone."

"No maybes about it." A small smile curved his lips. "You are trying to figure out how to sneak out of here." His look was entirely to smug for her liking. "There's just one small problem with that."

"Oh?" One brow lifted. "And that is?"

"I'm quite familiar with your Houdini act."

"You think so?"

"I recall seeing it a few times." He steered her toward his house. "That's why I'm going to keep both eyes on you."

"I can still sneak away." She sent a smug look over her shoulder. "You turn your back for so much as a second and I'll be gone."

"That's why I plan on having Judith keep you busy when I'm busy."

She folded her arms across her chest with a harrumph.

"That's cheating, Rick."

"I believe you once said Batman taught you how to fight smarter, not harder."

"Dirty play there, sheriff," she grumbled. "Using my own words against me."

"I'll do whatever is necessary to keep you from getting hurt." He nudged her up the front steps. "Even contact that asshole if necessary."

Amusement chased away her irritation with him.

"Oh, I know you're desperate if you're willing to have Negan come here to keep me here."

"Then take pity on me," he said as Carl opened the door, "and get inside before I lose what's left of my sanity and radio that son of a bitch."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!

Just a quick thank you to everyone who is following, favorited, and reviewed! Your support means the world to me!


	37. Thirty-Seven

Krypto kept tabs on the conversation going on outside the house while keeping the children of the sheriff inside it. Amusement flittered through him when the sheriff told Raya she was keeping her butt there. _You need Batman to issue that order_ , he told him as Judith ran a hand over the top of his head and down along his back, eliciting a shiver of delight. _That's the only way you will keep her here_.

"You turn your back for so much as a second and I'll be gone."

 _He doesn't even need to turn his back_ , Krypto thought as he sighed his pleasure and content. _Just blink his eyes and she will be out of here._

He'd seen her disappear plenty of times through the years to know how capable she was of it. _Just like the rest of the birds_. The only one better at it, in his mind, anyway, was Batman.

"That's why I plan on having Judith keep you busy when I'm busy."

"That's cheating, Rick."

 _And extremely effective._ Anyone who knew Raya knew she was a mom before she was anything else. Kids were why she donned her mask and took to the streets as Fenix in the first place. Kids were why she joined the Gotham City Police Department. Kids were why she became a doctor. Kids were why she opened those abuse centers.

Kids were why she did everything she did.

Even that foul-mouthed man tended to place the welfare of kids like Judith at the top of his list of obligations. ' _It takes a village to raise a child, baby doll_ ', he heard him tell her many times. ' _We're what will guarantee there is a future generation_.

He hadn't imagined that someone like Negan could understand such a simple philosophy. Not with his habit of bullying and belittling kids the same age as the sheriff's son. Hearing the way he spoke to them with crude insults and innuendos made the fur on the back of his neck rise, and his lips peel back from his teeth. How he talked wasn't appropriate. Even Harper and Jason Todd didn't speak that way in front of polite company.

He learned, however, there was always a motive inside the things Negan said or did.

Not that he tended to like what his motives were, of course.

The more he got to know Negan, the more he started to understand how the man operated. While he didn't think him the nicest of men or the most honorable, neither did he think him in the same league as others who crossed his path over the years. _He's not the Joker, Scarecrow or Riddler._

No, the one thing he learned was that Negan cared about people. In his own way. His motives always had some element of good intention behind them. Granted, he thoroughly enjoyed the power and prestige his position of _King of the Castle_ gave him, but he also took the responsibilities of leadership very seriously. His rules, while not ones he necessarily agreed with, did give some measure of culpability.

People understood there were consequences for doing wrong. Negan brought back a measure of civilization with his rules. _He saves people by being what this world needs._ Wrong as some of his methods might be, Krypto couldn't deny that they worked. The Saviors thrived where many others floundered. Negan managed to not only build a sustainable community, but he kept it functioning by not falling victim to the belief that everything would end up okay.

He also wasn't unreasonable. Negan could be reasoned with. He did listen when people spoke honestly and truthfully. He took suggestions under advisement. Negan started to change under Raya's influence. Until the incident at his depot with the sheriff and his people, Krypto thought him on his way to redemption.

Would he ever be a paragon of virtue? No. Even Bruce Wayne was far from perfect. However, Krypto fully believed that with Raya's continued support and guidance that Negan would become a strong leader. He largely adhered to the advice she gave. He even cut back on the number of punishments he handed out when he saw people could be imprisoned and it not diminish his authority.

He might have even agreed to not hand out the punishment he did to Rick and his people were it not for one major factor: _Raya_.

Krypto had been at the Satellite Depot with her the night the sheriff and his cohorts attacked it. Had he and Raya not left when they did, it was very likely that she'd have gotten injured in the fight. _Or worse_ , he thought as he flopped his head into Judith's lap with a soft sigh. _She might have gotten killed._ Skilled as Raya was, and as formidable as she could be in a fight, she couldn't withstand a barrage of bullets. _She's not Superman_.

What the sheriff and his people did struck at the heart of a man who already lost one wife. To lose a wife and his unborn child?

No man could survive that.

Even Batman almost crumbled after the clown murdered his son, Jason. _If a man as morally righteous as he can almost be pushed over the edge_ , _then a man who lacks that same strong moral fiber stands no chance whatsoever._ That was why Negan chose to hand out the punishment to the sheriff and his people personally. It was payback for what they almost took from him. _It will be the same if he could get his hands on the Joker._

Krypto briefly considered heading back to the Sanctuary. Finding the clown before he could hurt any more people was more than just crucial to the survival of Raya and the rest of his family.

It was vital for the survival of everyone else, as well.

Krypto was well aware of what a man like the Joker was capable of. He had seen the sorts of games he liked to play. Men like him dealt in blood. That was the trade he plied. Ashes and rot and decay and death. The summation of a life spent creating nothing but chaos and misery.

The clown also wanted to break Batman.

Krypto's lips peeled back from his teeth. _That_ , he decided as he rest his head on his paws, _is never happen._ He'd do whatever it took to make sure that none of the family or their friends ended up in the Joker's twisted clutches. _Especially Raya_. Some would likely find it strange how protective he was of a human being. They didn't realize he wasn't an ordinary dog, and his human wasn't a usual one. Nor did they know Christopher's biological father, Conner, ordered him to watch over his unborn son.

For sixteen years he had done just that.

And he would continue doing it until he was either too old or dead to do it.

He chose to remain as the family's protector. Watching over them was more than an honor. It was more even than his duty. It was a pleasure and a privilege.

He loved them as much as they loved him.

 _They're mine_ , he thought as he rolled onto his back to let Judith rub his belly. _And I'm theirs_.

"I believe you once said Batman taught you how to fight smarter, not harder."

"Dirty play there, sheriff, using my own words against me."

"I'll do whatever is necessary to keep you from getting hurt." The front steps creaked as they walked up them. "Even contact that asshole if necessary."

Krypto's stared at the door. Did the sheriff mean he'd contact Negan? Bring him to Alexandria? He cocked his head to the side. _Must have misunderstood him._ There was no way that he'd contact Negan and ask him to come there _._ Not after what happened in that clearing. _He'd be crazy to bring Negan here after what happened last night_ , he decided as he watched Carl quickly walk to the front door.

"Well, now, I know you're desperate if you're willing to have Negan come here just to keep me here."

So, he hadn't misunderstood what the sheriff meant. _Yup, he must be desperate if he's willing to bring Negan here after everything that happened between them_. Not that he didn't approve of the idea. Negan had a way of getting through that thick layer of stubborn Raya seemed cursed with. He managed to stop her from going after the Clown Prince when the last set of boys got left at the Sanctuary. Krypto didn't especially like Negan, but he did believe the man cared for her. _He wouldn't have gotten so angry with the sheriff about what he did if he didn't._

The only one capable of keeping her away from the Joker was Negan. _He knows why she cannot go after the clown._ Carl opened the door just as they started to walk across the porch. The sun cast them both in a warm glow. His hands rest lightly on her shoulders. A smile played about her mouth. On the surface, everything appeared normal. Raya called it the comfort inside the familiar. A bit of normal inside the cartoon circus world that made up their lives. They were just two people teasing and having a good time.

Krypto knew it was a lie. Neither one was completely at ease. He could hear how fast the sheriff's heart was beating. He was nervous and rightfully so. A madman was on the loose. One who'd think nothing of kidnapping his son and murdering him as he had all the other boys. Something the sheriff still had no knowledge of. _He will find out about them soon enough._

"Well, then take pity on me and get inside the house before I lose what's left of my sanity and radio that son of a bitch."

"Fine, fine." Raya padded towards the kitchen, stopping to run a hand over the top of Judith's head. She received a smile from the little girl while he got his ear rubbed. He sighed his pleasure as she said, "I'll take pity on you, but you have to promise me one thing."

"And what's that?"

"You'll stay here, too." She glanced at him from over one shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes, and a mischievous smile playing about her mouth. "You've gotten in enough trouble for one night."

The sheriff snorted softly. "I've gotten in enough trouble for one lifetime."

"Ain't that the truth."

"Don't need any of your sass."

"It's the truth, though." Her dimples winked. "You've gotten in enough trouble for ten lifetimes."

"More like twenty," Carl joked. "That's why he has so many gray hairs."

"Just for that." The sheriff pointed to the kitchen. "You can go help her finish breakfast."

"Okay." Carl quickly headed towards the kitchen. "I can ask her how much the comics get right."

"Just don't pester her with questions."

"Oh, he can ask me whatever he likes," she said as she followed Carl into the kitchen. "I just reserve the right to answer."

"I recall that you reserve that right a lot."

"That's right."

"I remember thinking that the government could take lessons from you in keeping secrets." There was a speckle of humor in his voice. "And that Fort Knox is easier to get stuff out of."

"I'm not the one who told me his wife acted like he was the most close-mouthed SOB in the world."

He grimaced. "Do you have to remember everything I said?"

"Yes. Now, breakfast will be a few minutes. Gives you time to go shower and change."

A true smile graced the sheriff's face then.

"Are you politely telling me that I smell?"

"I'd never say something like that." She poked her head back into the room. "But you do look like a mountain man with that beard."

He chuckled and ran a hand over the lower part of his face. "You've got me there."

"Good. Now go shave." She disappeared back into the kitchen. "I'll mind myself while you're busy making yourself look respectable."

The sheriff chuckled as he crouched down to rub a hand over his belly. "Subtle, ain't she, boy?" Krypto yipped softly. "Watch me ruffle her feathers." He got up to head towards the stairs. "While I'm upstairs making myself presentable, I'm leaving Judith to keep an eye on you."

"Dirty, dirty move, Rick." Pans rustled. "Very dirty move."

 _But an extremely effective one_ , Krypto mused as the sheriff headed upstairs to shower and shave as commanded. _You won't go anywhere as long as the little angel here is keeping an eye on_ you _._

And that was because _she_ was keeping an eye on the little angel.

...

If he managed to learn one thing over the course of his long and storied career, it was that a good performer knew to leave his audience wanting more. A performer, if they were truly worth their salt, always chose to exit the stage amidst a sea of boisterous applause and shrill cries for an encore. When he started as a stand-up comedian, boos and hisses typically greeted his punchlines. Such vehement dislike got him down, made him consider quitting. Then he met Bats, and everything changed.

Life became a gas!

He hit the big time after he met the Big Guy. Those who once booed and hissed now sang his praises! People started lining up to see him perform. Nobody put on a greater show than him. Not Michael Jackson, Walt Disney nor P.T. Barnum. Even Chaplin couldn't perform as well as he. _Little Tramp, indeed_! _Why, he can't even shine my spats!_

He cackled as he watched the Big Lug and the princess's oldest brat go face-to-face on the steps of the Sanctuary. _Now, now_ , _children_ , he silently chided with a giggle. _My performance wasn't_ that _bad._

 _No_ , he decided as Fonzie poked the snot-nosed little twerp in the shoulder with one finger. This had been his best performance to date. All of his other performances failed to live up to this one. His audience had been truly captivated by every moment. They gasped at every twist and turn. Jumped in their seats when the action cut through the suspense. Breathed sighs of relief when the good guys lived to see another day.

For now, anyway.

The story was far from over. Mictlan created a cliffhanger when she failed to kill Fonzie. The only thing he could do was exit the stage amidst his audiences cries for him to come back and deliver an even greater performance than he already had given them.

"Soon," he promised them, grin stretching wide. "I will deliver a truly spectacular performance very soon!"

Oh, and what a performance it'd be, too!

It wouldn't be the grandest of the grand, obviously. No, he had reserved his greatest performance for his dear Dark Knight. _Only the best for the Bats! Nothing else will do!_

Not that what he planned for Fonzie and the rest of his adoring fans was not worthy of the praise it'd receive once the performance was through. He had put a considerable amount of thought, time, and effort into this encore he planned. Sure, he wasn't planning on performing this scene so soon, but his audience convinced him to do it!

The show _must_ go on, after all!

Once his supporting cast arrived, the next performance would begin. Fonzie and the rest of the crowd would happily head back inside the Sanctuary once they realized he was gonna return to the stage for another rousing performance.

Why, they'd be positively _thrilled_ to return to their seats, hungry as they were for him to give them an even better performance than he already had given them! Once they got comfortable, he'd hoist up the curtain, let in his Jokerfiedhorde, and set off the fireworks display he arranged to close the show weeks ago.

 _The rockets red glare will give them a lovely little tingle!_

How they'd cheer for such a superb performance! Their delighted cries would tide him over until the Bats arrived for his last performance.

What more could he ask for, really?

Besides the princess calling Batsy here, of course.

And Mictlan _actually_ fulfilling her promise to kill Fonzie.

 _Can't have all the fun happen at once_! he decided as a series of loud pops sent people diving for cover. _Simply won't do to have the party end before the guest of honor arrives_!

Besides, he was starting to look forward to killing the Big Lug, himself. That barbed wire wrapped bat of his looked like oodles of fun. _Been a while since I played cranium-ball with someone!_

The last one he played with hadn't been that much fun. No, the kid croaked before he got in more than a couple of swings. _Just don't make 'em as they used too!_

Fonzie, though, looked like he could take a lickin' and keep on a-tickin'. Much like husky Robin did after he took that crowbar to him.

 _Ah, what a beautiful memory that is_. He wiped away an imaginary tear as he thought about the private little performance he gave that night. Batsy nearly lost his mind after that show. If Fenix hadn't stopped him, why, he'd have lost his mind!

 _Not gonna stop me from cracking open Fonzie's head_!

Anticipation pulsed beneath his skin. He could almost feel the handle of that bat in his hand. Could almost feel his arm raise up. Could almost feel the whoosh of air as he brought it down. The first blow wouldn't do more than stun a fella as big as Fonzie. The second? Now _that_ would get the blood flowing!

His grin stretched wide as he imagined all the ways he could teach Fonzie about using that bat. _The Big Lug lacks imagination,_ he thought as a discordant buzzing echoed above the pandemonium below. _He has no style, no sophistication. He just clubs them on top of the head._ How boring was that?

He'd show him how classy one could be with a baseball bat. Killing _Fonzie will teach the princess about telling me no_! Once she saw what he'd done to the big galoot, she'd call Bats. Then they'd play like they did the night they met.

What glorious fun it'd be!

After they finished their game, he'd show Batsy where he stashed his bunch of brats. _Oh, he is gonna go insane with rage_! Yes, that mantle of civility the Dark Knight wore would get cast off and the monster — the one he promised to show him before he brought things to a glorious end — would finally emerge!

Yes, Batsy was gonna finally, _finally_ break that boring rule of his about not killing. _Whoever heard of such a ridiculous rule, anyway_?

He looked towards Fonzie but stopped when his gaze clashed with the brats. _Oops! Guess I've been spotted!_

The brat pointed at him while saying something to Fonzie. _Well, it's definitely time to exit stage left_ , he decided as Fonzielifted eyes almost as dark as his dear Dark Knight's cape to his. _Can't have you, the SuperTwerp or the Boy Blunder catching up with me. Not when I have other plans to finalize and the Bats to prepare for._ The Big Lug's eyes narrowed, and his face flushed with fury, amusing the Clown Prince, who cackled his glee _._ He blew a kiss to him before dancing across the roof to the fire escape.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	38. Thirty-Eight

"Is that that fucking fuck up there on the roof of my Sanctuary?"

Christopher nodded without once taking his gaze off the man leering down at him. "Yes."

Negan released a sigh filled with the same frustration boiling beneath his skin. That steam wasn't pouring off him amazed him. A tidal wave of emotions rolled over him, into him, almost sucking him down into the dark, dangerous depths that waited.

Deep, calming breaths worked to push the tide back, but only for a few seconds. Then the surge returned, stronger, and more demanding than before. Christopher thought he'd drown in the swirling mass. The harder he fought to stay above the surface, the more insistent the undertow became. It took every ounce of his might to not get dragged down into the place of no return.

The only thing that kept going through his mind was how the Joker was within grabbing distance. All it would take was one giant leap into the air and he'd be able to close his hand around that bony throat. One small squeeze and it'd all be over.

There'd be no more boys getting hung on chain link fences.

No more people getting turned into Jokerfied puppets of death.

No more bombs filled with the Joker's laughing gas left in cars or outside the front gates.

No more mercurial games that amused only the man behind them.

One twist of his wrist and there'd simply be no more Clown Prince of Crime.

He couldn't do it, however. He couldn't murder the Joker. Much like his mother, sister, and uncles, he was bound by Batman's no killing rule. Something the damn clown knew and took special delight in lording over him. _Just you wait_ , he promised him silently. _We'll get you_. _Just like we always do._

Only this time, they planned to put the Joker in a cage that he couldn't break out of. No more would the Clown Prince vacation in Arkham or Blackgate. No, his days of bending the legal system were over. The prison that Batman built didn't have the revolving doors Arkham and Blackgate did. The people who'd watch over the Joker were wise to his tricks and impervious to his manipulation. _Yup_ , he thought as the Joker winked. _Your days of anarchy and mayhem will be over soon as we get you in custody._

"Are you abso-fucking-lutely sure that is the fucking fuck?"

"That's him," he confirmed as the Joker taunted him further by dancing a little jig and grinning that crimson grin. "That's the Joker."

"Fucking perfect." He felt more than saw Negan turn from him. "Go find Simon. Tell him to get some of the men and go up to the roof and show this sorry shit..."

"No." Christopher flinched at his brusque tone but didn't apologize for it. Way he saw it, the firmer he was with Negan, the better. "You cannot send anyone after the Joker."

Leather creaked as Negan shifted towards him. The glint in his eyes had warning bells going off in Christopher's head. It didn't take a genius to know that the man was nearing the end of his rope. It amazed him the man kept calm this long. _He's let me talk to him in ways that he'd have busted others in the mouth for_ , he realized as he met his gaze.

"And why the fuck can't I?" Murmurs came from the men and women surrounding them. All wanting Negan to do whatever it took to make their Sanctuary safe once more. "He's one sorry shit against dozens with guns. We have the upper fucking hand here."

More murmurs came from the crowd. People wanted to get even with the Joker for what he'd done. Christopher didn't blame him. He wanted to see the Joker punished for all those he hurt, too. However, he knew that it wasn't something they could do without careful planning. Something he tried to impress on them.

"You think that you have the upper hand against the Joker because you have the numbers and you have weapons." Christopher stared at every man and woman. Their fear, their worry, and their anger caused the tides crashing inside of him to swell to even greater heights. He shoved the flood back with a strength of will that would even impress Batman. "I guarantee that you're wrong. You don't."

"Look around you, kid." Negan waved his bat at the people around them. "There are over fifty people here with guns they can use to blast holes in that sorry shit." Nods and soft sounds of agreement accompanied that statement. "He's dog shit. I guaran-fucking-tee it."

"You're thinking numbers equal power." He shook his head. "It doesn't. Not with a man like him. More people just means there are more people for him to kill."

"That so?"

Christopher let his sarcasm roll off him like rain. Reacting to it wouldn't help the situation. Cooler heads needed to prevail if they had any hope whatsoever in surviving whatever the Joker planned to do next. _And there is always a next with him._

"And you will just be sending those people to their deaths."

"How the fuck do you know?" People nodded and voiced their agreement. "Huh? What the fucking fuck makes you so goddamn certain that we won't kill this sorry shit?"

"I've seen what the Joker is capable of." His fingers flexed at his sides. "I've seen him murder an entire room of people just for the sheer hilarity of it. He's turned Gotham upside down just to get a rise out of the police, the rest of the crazies roaming around Gotham, and especially Batman." Excited twitters went up at the mention of the Dark Knight. People didn't tend to believe that Batman existed. _Mr. Grimes didn't think he did, either_. Like him, they'd find out how wrong they were. "I know sending a lot of people after him just means there are more people for him to torture, hurt, and kill."

"He's played enough fucking games and hurt too many fucking people with his bullshit."

His growl reminded him of Batman's. It brought a small smile to his face despite the danger perched above them and watching them like a hawk. _I'm starting to see what Mom sees,_ he thought as he stared into Negan's face _. He's not just some bully with a baseball bat._

No, there was more to Negan than met the eye. _Little things that help blunt the less than savory elements of his personality_ , he realized as a few pops came from the still burning vehicles. Mom taught them to look for the little things. ' _They're what mean the most_ ,' she told them often. ' _Actions might speak louder than words but words show what our actions will be.'_

Negan's words told him loud and clear that he'd kill the Joker if he ever got his hands on him. He'd kill the Clown Prince to protect Mom, Jordan, him, Rose, and the people here at the Sanctuary. And he'd do it to get justice for the boys the Joker killed.

 _That_ , he realized as the Joker's high-pitched laugh floated down to him, _is who Negan is_. Was he like Batman? Definitely not. He lacked the Dark Knight's moral fiber for one thing and didn't care about social niceties. He possessed his own code of conduct, though. ' _Negan's not a monster_ ,' his mother told them right before the incident at the Satellite Depot. ' _He wants to stop the Joker as much as we do_.'

He just didn't realize what it'd take to put an end to the Joker and his brand of anarchy.

"You have no idea how many bodies he's left in his wake," he said. "The boys? The other missing Saviors? They'd barely take up half a page in his criminal history."

"That shit is over." He aimed Lucille up at the madman perched like a vulture on the edge of the roof of his Sanctuary. "You hear that, asshole? Your bullshit games end today."

A wide grin was the Joker's response. Not that Christopher believed he actually heard what Negan had to say. Not with the distance between them and the roar of the fire behind them.

"The Joker lives for his games." His fists bunched at his sides and his eyes narrowed into thin slits as he stared up at the wildly cackling clown. "That's why playing games with him are so dangerous."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna play rock, paper, knives, and bat with his bony fucking ass." Negan swung Lucille in a wide arc to embellish his point. "And guess fucking what, fuckwad? Bat. _Smashes_. Knives. Every fucking time."

Christopher found himself tempted to let Negan learn for himself about how dangerous playing games with the Clown Prince could be. Even Batman lost to the Joker a few times during the course of their long and extremely complicated relationship. Logic won out, however. _Especially since Mom will expect me to do everything I can to keep him from getting hurt_.

"If you try to play rock, paper, knives, and bat with him, I assure you that the last thing he'll pick to use is a knife."

"And what do you think he'll use?"

He indicated the bat Negan set against his shoulder with a nod of his head.

"He'll use Lucille." Something his mother feared happening with every fiber of her being. Not that Negan had any clue about that. Far as Negan was aware, the nightmare keeping her awake at night was from the night her mom got murdered. _Time to give him a little dose of truth_ , he decided as he folded his arms across his chest. "He'd see using her as poetic justice. Beating you to death with the very bat you've used on others." He cut a look at the Joker. "And knowing him? He'd make sure to take you somewhere that would be symbolic to Mom. Like the Estate where her mother was killed."

"Fuck that." The hard edge to Negan's tone warned Christopher his temper was hanging by a thread. One wrong word or move and the man would explode. He was more volatile than his uncle Jason and Damian combined _. And that's saying something_. "He can suck my left nut and tickle the right before that shit will ever happen."

"That's why we have to stop playing his game and start playing our own." He looked back at Negan. "Fight smarter, not harder."

He saw by the thinning of Negan's lips that he heard those words before. _Gee, no clue who might have said them to him_ , he thought, hiding a smile.

"I'm not playing that fuckers fucking game."

"We've been playing his game ever since he left the first boy hanging on your fence."

"That was his first move?"

"Yes." Christopher nodded. "And this?" He indicated the burning SUVs with a wave of his hand. "This is his second move."

"And what the fucking fuck about the sorry shit who tried to put a bullet in my brain?"

"That was the Joker trying to push Mom into doing what he wants her to do. He reckons that killing you will push her over the edge."

"Won't fucking happen." A shadow passed over Negan's face so quickly that Christopher wondered if he actually had seen it. "I guaran-fucking-tee it."

 _That_ , Christopher realized, surprise mixing with the anxiety and anger in his veins. _That's what Mom sees. That's why she believes in him_. _Why she stays with him despite Uncle Paul's reservations_. _The little things. The ones that tell her he cares._

His musings got cut short when he spied Roy Harper making his way through the crowd towards where he stood with Negan. A nod was all it took for him to know he got Mr. Dixon away from here. _He can help Mom handle things at Alexandria_.

He caught Harper's eye and slowly looked up towards the top of the building. Harper got his hint. The blood drained from his face when he saw the Joker standing there larger than life above them.

"Well, kid?"

He looked at Negan, one brow raised. "Well, what?"

"Who the fuck tried to shoot me?"

"I can't be one hundred percent positive. He breathed out a sigh. "But I suspect her name is Mictlan."

"Mic-Lan?" He scoffed. "Hell kinda name is that?"

"Mictlan," he corrected. "Her name is Mictlan."

"And?"

"And in Aztec mythology, it's the underworld."

"Hell?"

"Their version of it, yes."

"And I'm supposed to fucking care..." He sent him a small, tight smile. "Why?"

"Because Mictlan believes she serves Mictlantecuhtli, the King of the underworld. He is the ruler of the dead. The Grim Reaper if you want to break it down simply."

People gasped, cursed, and made signs of the cross. As if that was going to protect them. Negan remained unimpressed, however.

"Again I ask... why the fuck am I supposed to care?"

"Mictlan honors Mictlantecuhtli by offering up the bones of her kills." He acknowledged Harper reaching his side with a nod. "She failed to kill you. She failed to honor Mictlantecuhtli."

"Her fucking mistake."

"And one the Joker is now going to correct."

"Gotta tell you, kid." Negan chuckled. "That shit jingles my balls."

"Why?"

"Because he can try his damndest but I'm like a cat." A grin spread across his face. "I've got nine fucking lives."

"The Joker doesn't try." He exchanged a look with Harper, who nodded in silent agreement. "He just does."

"And when he does..." Negan aimed Lucille like one of the assault rifles the men behind him carried. "The stupid fuck will get fucking fucked." He returned Lucille to his shoulder. "You may think she is an inanimate object. An inconsequential piece of wood wrapped with barbed wire." His lips tilted at the corners. "You'd be dead fucking wrong, kid. See, Lucille's saved my life more times than I can remember. She's gotten me through more shit than you can fucking imagine. She's my can of motherfucking spinach. You fuck with me and you get fucking fucked."

Murmurs and nods accompanied his speech. Christopher understood why Negan spoke so brashly. It wasn't because he was an egotist who believed his own hype. People were scared. They needed something to believe in. A leader that they could trust. _He gives them that_ , he realized. _He gives them what they need so they can believe they'll be okay_.

"Look," he said quietly. "I get why you're doing this. They're scared. They're looking to you as their leader. This is the Joker, though. Going after him now is just a bad idea."

"And why the fuck is it such a bad idea? Hm?"

"Because he has planted bombs all around your Sanctuary."

"What the shit?"

"I did not stutter." Slade pushed through the throng to stand beside Harper. "There are ten bombs planted in total throughout your Sanctuary."

"Where?" To Negan's credit, he didn't growl it. _Well_ , Christopher amended with a grimace. He didn't growl it _much_. "Where the fuck are they?"

"Two by the furnace, two beneath the stairs, one by the door leading onto the roof, one by the three doors that lead out of the Sanctuary, two in trash cans by the doors behind us, one in your wives bedroom, one in the bedroom beside Negan's, and the last one is inside the boy laid out in the bastard's bed."

Fear blanked his mind, rolled sick in his belly. "He..." He shook his head. "He, what?"

Slade didn't get a chance to answer as Negan took a menacing step forward.

"He put a fucking bomb inside a kid?" Rage vibrated in every syllable. "That what you're fucking telling me?"

"Yes." Slade went face-to-face with Negan. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

Christopher felt the start of a headache behind his eyes as the two held a stare-down contest. _The things I do_... he thought, sighing.

"Fighting among each other isn't going to help anything." He looked at the two men. "He wants us fighting among ourselves. He's finding it amusing."

"I'll amuse the fucking fuck..."

"By letting him blow up your Sanctuary?" Slade chuckled softly. "Gotta tell you, mate, I took you for a much smarter man."

Negan released a stream of words that Christopher imagined even his uncle Jason wouldn't dare use. He could understand his frustration, however. The man responsible for killing so many people was within reach and there wasn't anything they could do to bring him to justice. Not without causing harm to dozens of other innocent people.

 _And that includes Jordan_ , he realized as the Joker's laughter filled his auditory canals. Jordan was who could be hurt the worst if he wasn't careful. _I have to think of Jordan,_ Christopher realized as the Joker blew a kiss at him before disappearing, likely to find a place where he could wait for the right moment to detonate the bombs. _I'm the oldest. Jordan's safety and well-being is my responsibility_. Much like he, Rose, Damian, and Jordan were their uncles' responsibility when Mom wasn't there to take care of them.

Killing women, children, the sick, and infirm was all the same to a man like the Joker. Nobody was safe from his machinations. The number of bodies the clown left in his wake proved how little he valued life. Bombs were also one of the Clown Prince's preferred methods of annihilation.

Creating the biggest, loudest, grandest spectacle was what he lived for. It didn't surprise him to discover there was a minimum of ten bombs scattered around the Sanctuary. What exactly the Joker was waiting for was the only thing he couldn't figure out. _Is he waiting for Mom? Grandpa Bruce? Or Negan to do something before detonating the bombs?_

The answer came when Christopher heard the familiar droning of hunger and bloodlust. _It wasn't coming from the yard_ , he realized, stomach clenching. No, that chorus was coming from _multiple_ directions. He slowly turned towards the buildings across from the Sanctuary. Through the smoke and flames, he could just make out a few rambling figures. Instinct told him that a _few_ were more like _hundreds_.

All heading right for the Sanctuary.

 _He's going to trap everyone inside and then detonate the bombs_ , he realized as Rose materialized at his side with Jordan.

"We need to evacuate the Sanctuary." He ignored the look of warning that Negan sent him. "Now. Get everyone out of the building."

"Look, kid..."

"No, _you_ look." He pointed to the road outside the Sanctuary. "There's a horde coming this way. A very big one."

"And?"

"And they're not the average undead that you're used to dealing with."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"These undead are capable of opening doors, climbing fences, and even smashing through windows."

Negan's face didn't betray anything. Yet Christopher could tell by the change in his heart rate that he understood the danger they were all in. Not that he wouldn't go down without a fight. That's why he stepped towards him and dropped his voice an octave to impress on him how stupid fighting at that moment would be.

"You can probably take down the first few dozen without breaking a sweat. That horde is gonna get inside the Sanctuary one way or another. And that," he said grimly, "is when he plans to detonate his bombs."

"That explains why they're not timer bombs." Slade flicked a look up at the roof. "He's waiting for you to pull everyone back inside before he remotely detonates them."

"Symbolism," Rose murmured. "That's what the Joker lives for. Reliving his greatest moments."

"I don't remember him pulling this before." Christopher frowned. "Has he?"

"He has," she confirmed, nodding. "When he tried to recreate his greatest achievement."

 _Greatest achievement_? His frown deepened as he thought back over all the games the Joker had played. Only one night stuck out in his mind that even remotely could count as his greatest achievement. He looked at her. "You mean the might he...?"

"Yes."

"We need to get everyone out of here and quickly."

"Where the fuck do we go?" Negan stared at Christopher. Well, _glare_ was more like it, he realized, sighing. "Where the fucking fuck do we take this many people? Huh? Answer me that one, kid."

There was only one place that Christopher could think of but to take them there he needed the permission of the one person not at the Sanctuary.

"Alexandria," Christopher said. "We take everyone to Alexandria."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	39. Thirty-Nine

"So, how is it that you know this woman?"

Rick paused in his rather Herculean effort of ridding himself of the thick bristles he allowed to accumulate the last few days to glance at Michonne in the oval-shaped mirror. One dark brow tilted in silent question. Not that he didn't already know who she was asking about. _I swear I mentioned traveling with Raya while we were making our way to Hilltop with Glenn and Abraham's bodies..._

Admittedly, things got a little fuzzy after Negan and that asshole, Simon left. The last thing he recalled with any clear detail was surging to his feet and grabbing Raya in a hard, desperate embrace. Maybe he hadn't told Michonne about traveling with her. _I should have talked to her about Raya before we got some sleep._ He hid a grimace by swiping the razor over his right cheek. _Told her, she'd be coming by once she found out where Daryl got taken._

Finding Raya making breakfast must have come as a helluva shock to her. To Michonne's credit, she waited until they were alone before asking about her. Talking just wasn't his strong suit. Never had been and he much doubted it ever would be. Talking was what caused the breakdown of his marriage.

' _You aren't a bullshitter_.' That was what Raya said to him the night before she packed her two kids and that abnormal dog of theirs into the Bronco she proliferated and left him. ' _You aren't a bullshitter. That's why you and your wife fought so much. You aren't a bullshitter and she isn't a listener_.'

He denied it, of course. The fault for the problems in their marriage was his. Hadn't Lori said as much when she would speak to him? Hadn't she accused him of not caring enough about her and Carl, by giving up on their marriage because he wanted out but didn't have the guts to simply say so?

Raya had been right. Lori hadn't been much of a listener. _And I wasn't much of a talker_. He always planned to make things right with Lori. He just didn't know how. Then she died giving birth to Judith and the opportunity to fix things was lost forever. That's why he couldn't bullshit Michonne. Not now. Not after everything they had gone through — with the Governor, Terminus, McGrady, the Wolves, Negan — and would go through if Raya was correct about the Joker coming after them.

"Rick, I'm waiting for an answer."

The edge to her tone warned him that trouble lay ahead if he tried to evade any of her questions or was less than completely honest with her. Rick struggled with what to say as he swiped off more whiskers. There was only so much truth he could give her. _Especially since I don't know everything myself_. He rinsed the razor off in the murky, foamy water pooled in the sink basin and lightly tapped it on the edge to clear off the shaving cream and any bristles caught between the blades.

"You want to know about Raya?"

"Yes, I want to know about her." She folded her arms across her chest and pinned him with a look that made him want to squirm. "Who else do you think I want to know about?"

"I was just making sure you meant her." She gave him a look that said she didn't believe him. "What?"

"Who is she? How do you know her? Why is she here?"

Her suspicion twisted his belly into a knot. Lori accused him of withholding things. Of not telling her everything that happened after he woke up and left the hospital. He hadn't lied to her. He told her about Morgan. About Raya. Traveling with her until they got separated. _I didn't keep anything from her_. There wasn't anything for him to withhold. Nothing between him and Raya extended beyond the scope of friendship. _Even that dance, we shared in the kitchen of that farmhouse wasn't anything more than two friends taking and giving comfort to the other._

That memory, along with his son and daughter and Michonne, helped him when he found himself at his lowest. They reminded him of why he kept fighting. Why he couldn't give up. Everything he did was for his family. For his friends. For a future for them all. He made a lotta mistakes along the way — Negan by far the largest — but his intentions had always been good.

"Rick?"

Rick ran the razor over his throat as he considered what he could tell Michonne that wouldn't creep too close to that line he didn't want to cross. Most everything he came up with was stuff he felt Raya should discuss. _Like how she's a crime fighter from a city we all thought fictional. That she's been trained by a man we believed fake. That she goes by the name Fenix. That one of the men after her calls himself the Joker._

The last was the one he dreaded explaining the most. _How do I tell her that a homicidal maniac in clown makeup wants to kill us just to get at Raya and her family?_ He got a moment's reprieve when the blade nicked his throat. He hissed out a curse and placed a finger on the cut to stem the blood.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... just cut myself is all."

"I thought you gave up shaving because you were tired of cutting yourself?"

"I did." His eyes met hers in the glass. "But someone downstairs said I looked like a mountain man." His lips curved at the corners. "Even suggested I smelled like one."

"Well." There was amusement in her voice, on her face. "I'd have said mule myself."

He chuckled softly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She sobered. "Now, tell me about her."

 _Raya encouraged me to tell Lori about her_ , he recalled as he searched for what to say that wouldn't give away too much. _Said I needed to be up front and honest with her so that we could start over with no secrets between us_. Lori reacted as badly as he predicted she would. _Accused me of betraying our vows. Which was rich given how she screwed around with Shane_.

Michonne wasn't like that. _She'll accept I met Raya while looking for Carl. We traveled together. Became friends_.

"What is it you want to know?" He lifted his finger to check his throat, smearing the dollop of red that bubbled out of the small nick despite his attempt to staunch it. "General things?"

"How about we start with something simple." Michonne leaned against the door jamb. "Where did you meet her?"

 _Well_ , he thought as he picked up the razor from where he dropped it after cutting himself. _I can at least start off with the truth_.

"Georgia." He dunked the razor into the water and swished it around. He tapped it on the side of the basin before swiping it across his left cheek. "Was a few miles outside of where I worked as a deputy."

"Okay..." She slowly digested that as he scraped off the whiskers under his chin. "Was it in the hospital or after you left it?"

Another truth, he could tell.

"After." God, it seemed like a lifetime had gone by since he woke up, alone, and unaware of the nightmare waiting outside his hospital room. "She found me in the back of a car I had decided to camp in after my police cruiser ran outta gas."

"You traveled together then?"

"We did for about a week, yeah."

"Just you, her, and that big dog of hers?" Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. Gauging his honesty like any well-trained and seasoned attorney would. "Nobody else was traveling with you?"

This was that murky ground he feared walking on. The line between truth and lie became very thin. He had to figure out what to say that said enough to satisfy her without breaking Raya's confidence. Not telling her about Raya's son and daughter wasn't a lie so much as it was just an omission of details not relevant to the situation. That's what he was telling himself, anyway.

"It was her, me, and that dopey white dog of hers."

Keeping Michonne in the dark about Rose and Christopher was the only way to keep her safe. If Slade Wilson came to Alexandria, if he captured them, he'd interrogate them. Raya hadn't told him much about the man, but what little she had let slip convinced him that Negan was a walk in the park compared to Slade Wilson. Negan tortured them by playing cruel psychological games meant to break them down and make them compliant to his demands.

He suspected Wilson would just torture them until they either told him everything he wanted to know, or they ended up dead. _The only one he's gonna torture for information is me,_ he decided, jaw clenching. _It's what I deserve after what happened to Glenn and Abraham_.

It was also bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit _._

The truth was he wanted to shelter and protect Christopher and Rose in the same way he did Carl and Judith. Neither teen had ever had a father in their life. Christopher's father died before he was born and Rose's… Well, he only played daddy when it suited him.

Slade Wilson put himself ahead of his daughter. _And that is not how being a parent works._ Kids were not toys that parents could take out and play with when the mood strikes them. Being a parent was a full-time job. There were no days off, no calling in sick, no overtime pay. _Everything you do, you do for them_.

Raya put her children before herself. She moved them to Georgia to give them stability, security, and safety. She chose to set aside the costumed vigilante so she could devote her time to them. To raise them. To see them grow up in an environment that didn't include assassins, homicidal clowns or ruthless billionaires who wanted to use her son to create an army of supermen. _She still trained them_ , he mused. _Still taught them everything Batman taught her_. _Prepared them for the world. Almost as if she knew this was gonna happen._

That was ridiculous, though. Nobody could have predicted this was gonna happen. How could they? Raya had proven she was a lot more adept at surviving this world than he believed when they were together. She possessed the sort of stealth and cunning he had only seen in people specially trained for performing those sorts of maneuvers. _Then again_ , he thought as he scraped off another layer of whiskers. _Raya isn't an ordinary woman_.

The men who raised her, the cop and the vigilante didn't teach her to accept being ordinary. They taught her how to rise above, to stand tall, and to work hard. He became a cop because he wanted to do good. To help people. To protect them. Raya put on a mask and took to the streets to do the same thing. Only, she got what he so often couldn't: justice. She wasn't indestructible, though. This world and men like Lex Luther, Slade Wilson, and the Joker had taken a toll on her.

He could see the frown lines and bits of silver in that wildly curling halo that framed her face. She was also thinner than he remembered. _She tends to skip eating when she's worried about something_. She needed someone to help take some of the pressure off her. Someone who could help with the worst of whatever might come next. Someone who could handle what this Joker might do next. _As much as I hate to admit it… Negan is the one most capable of the job._

"Why is she here?"

And there was another question he had dreaded her asking. It wasn't one he could answer. Not without giving away her private identity or going into the other topic he wanted to avoid: _Negan_. He just had to hope she'd forgive him once the full truth came out.

"She's here to help us."

"Help us?" And there was the other set of questions he wanted to avoid. "How?"

Rick finished scraping off the last of his whiskers as he considered how to reply. "You will have to ask her that."

"Why can't you tell me?"

That he could answer honestly. "I don't know how she plans to help us." He looked over his face to make sure he hadn't missed any whiskers before grabbing the towel on the edge of the sink. "We didn't get a chance to talk about how she plans to help us."

"Why not?"

"You saw the smoke in the distance?" He saw her nod. "It's coming from Negan's compound." He held up a hand to stop her from asking the question already forming on her lips. "Raya confirmed it as we were talking with one of Negan's men."

"One of Negan's men was here?"

 _Shit, said too much_. Well, there was no going back now. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ The best he could hope for was that she wouldn't wallop him.

"Yeah, uh, one of his men, Dwight he said his name was, was here."

She straightened. "Dwight? The one who shot Daryl and took his crossbow?" Shock and dismay washed over her face at his nod. "He was here?"

 _Back to treading water again,_ he thought, grimacing. Part of him felt like the harder he tried to keep his head above water the more difficult it became to stay afloat. _I can't break that trust, though. I just can't._

"Yeah." He prepared himself for his impending clobbering. "He was here."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why was he here?"

"To tell Raya that she needed to stay here because a man looking for her was at the Sanctuary."

"A man?" Suspicion darkened her tone. "What man? And why's he looking for her?"

He rinsed the razor in the sink while he debated how best to answer. _Truth is the best here_ , he decided. "His name is Slade Wilson." He set the razor in the medicine cabinet and shut the door before turning towards her. "And that is all I can tell you about him."

"You can't tell me why he's looking for her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because." He made a face. "Because it's something she should explain really, not me."

"I see."

Rick had anticipated that she wouldn't be overly pleased by his saying she needed to ask Raya about Slade Wilson. He just didn't have any other choice. _A promise is a promise_.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

It was anything but fine and Rick knew it. There was nothing he could do about it, though.

"Mich-"

"Can you at least tell me how she got in when I left word with Aaron that nobody was to be let in without your permission?"

"She didn't come in through the front gate."

She stared at him incredulously. "And you don't think that a bit strange?"

"No." His brow puckered. "Why would I?"

Her sigh told him she thought he only had one oar in the water. _And since I often act crazier than a sprayed roach_...

"Rick," she began in a calm and reasonable voice. "I understand that you trust this woman…"

"With my life." He fought to keep from snapping the words at her. "With yours, Carl and Judith's lives. With the lives of everyone here."

"I wouldn't be so quick to trust her." She glanced over her shoulder when Krypto's bark was followed by Judith laughing. "You know as well as I do that this world changes people." She moved to him and set a hand on his arm. "Who she used to be might not be who she is now."

"No." He shook his head. "This world hasn't changed her."

"How can you be sure? You haven't seen her in almost three years."

"I know the sort of woman she is." He grabbed a towel off the rack and scrubbed it over his face and the back of his neck. "I guarantee this world hasn't changed her."

 _Not like it changed me_. He didn't say that aloud. There was no need to. Michonne knew how much this world had changed him.

"What I'm finding strange is that one of Negan's men came here to warn her." Her head turned to one side as she studied him. Gauging his reaction. "Why do you think he did that?"

"She has an agreement with Negan." Another partial truth. "She provides therapy for those who want it or need it."

 _And helps bring raping scumbags to justice._ He didn't add that, though. It trod too close to the Batman topic he was trying to stay away from.

"Maybe she's a spy."

"She's not a spy."

 _Not for him_ , _anyway_. He couldn't tell her that she was an agent for a man gracing the pages of the comics in Carl's room. He didn't have a clue where to begin that particular tale. No, Batman, this Joker fella, Slade Wilson, and anything else regarding her private identity needed to come from one person: _Raya_.

"Have you considered that she might be one of the women that Paul says he keeps at his Sanctuary?"

He said, "She isn't," even as he thought, _she is_ the _woman at his Sanctuary_. Raya was Negan's right hand. There was no doubt in his mind about that. _Simon might be his second-in-command, but Raya is his co-leader._ _Much like Michonne is mine._

"How do you know?"

"Raya's not the kind of woman who'd allow herself to be kept." A wry grin tugged at his lips. "She'd beat the shit out of any man who tried to keep her."

 _Like_ _you_ , he added silently.

"Who is she, Rick?" She shook her head. "Who is she really?"

"I told you..."

"Yes, you told me she helped you after you left the hospital." She shook her head. "But I don't believe that's all it was."

"Well, no…"

"She's more than some stranger who stopped to help you."

"She's my friend." That much was the truth. Raya was his friend. "One who was there when I needed her the most. She helped me look for Carl."

 _Until men showed up at that farmhouse and spooked her_. _Luthor's_ _men_ _caused her to run as far as she could because she feared the baddest of the bad showing up and hurting me_.

"And?"

"And she's trusted me with things that I can't reveal to you or anyone." He gazed at her beseechingly. "Please understand."

"I'm try-"

"I can't fail her." The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. "Not like I've failed everyone else."

Her face softened as those damning words hung in the air between them.

"You didn't fail anyone, Rick." She moved to him and took his hand. "You didn't fail anyone."

"I got Glenn and Abraham killed." He blinked away the tears, hating them and himself for them. "I'm to blame. Me. Had I not been so goddamn..."

She silenced him with a kiss.

"We all have to shoulder a share of the blame for what happened to Glenn and Abraham."

"If I hadn't led you all to that supply depot…"

"Who says he wouldn't have come after us eventually?" She stroked a hand over his cheek. "Even if we hadn't attacked his supply depot, we still killed his men. He'd have wanted revenge for them."

Logic. It was something Raya and Michonne both tended to wield at exactly the moment it was most needed.

"I don't want to lose you or Carl or Judith." All the fear, guilt, grief, anger and sorrow he had tried his best to keep locked away leaked into his voice. "I can't. I just can't."

"You won't lose us," she vowed softly. "We will find a way to survive this. I promise you that."

"Not alone." He shook his head. "We can't fight this alone. We need her. I know you don't believe me…"

"I do," she interjected firmly. "I do believe you."

"Give her a chance to explain," he begged. "You'll see then that you can trust her."

"I will," she promised as she laid her forehead against his. "I will."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


	40. Forty

Bruce scanned the information displayed on the computer screen while bats chirped and fluttered overhead. Normally, he found comfort in their presence. Not today. The information in front of him left him cold to the core of his being. He tried to view the results in a positive way, as Alfred suggested after they saw the first test results, but he found he couldn't.

It was impossible to interpret the solutions as good when they indicated otherwise. If true, they were beyond all imagination. He rest his chin on his upturned fist as he pondered them. Options, he realized, were few. Luthor had his team of scientists working around the clock on finding a cure for what he termed the _Walker Virus._

However _,_ they were nowhere near a solution. _And I will not allow Luthor to test his hypothesis that Kai is the solution to curing the virus._ Even if Kai's blood did contain the antigen needed to end this virus, and he wasn't sure he believed that he did, he couldn't take the chance of him being used to create the army Luthor wanted. _Letting Luthor build an army of supermen is just as dangerous as the Joker building an undead one._

"Is the Joker's _Venom_ what is causing some of the undead to act differently from the others?"

He glanced at Dick from the corner of his eye. His face revealed absolutely nothing. Not that he expected it would. _His poker face is almost as good as mine,_ he mused. Yet there was a bite to his voice that indicated he was anything but calm. Bruce understood how he felt. This sitting back and doing nothing had him feeling like a volcano on the verge of erupting, too. He wasn't used to being on the sidelines any more than Dick.

Least of all when the Joker was the one causing the problems.

Much like Dick, he wanted to pull on the cowl, stalk to the Batplane, and fly to Virginia to hunt down the Joker. He fought his instincts, tamped down his frustration, and trusted that a call for aide would come when needed. _It's not easy to separate the professional from the personal, though,_ he thought as he turned back to the computer. _Distancing yourself from a situation that's as personal as this one isn't easy._

Bruce learned long ago that disassociating himself from situations was the only way he could function in his chosen role. When things got personal was when they got complicated. Especially in a world where the line between good and evil could be impossible to find.

"Bruce?" Worry and frustration made Dick's tone sharp. "Is the Joker's _Venom_ causing the undead to act differently from the others?"

"Yes," he confirmed with a slight nod. "The _Venom_ is causing his victims to reanimate with higher order brain functions than those simply infected by the _Walker Virus_."

As if being infected with one was any better than the other. The _Walker Virus_ caused them to reanimate as mindless drones. The _Venom_ caused them to reanimate with basic functions, but still as mindless. _There's no quality of life_ , he thought as he reached for his forgotten cup of coffee. _They're still just as dead_.

"I'm thinking the better question to ask here is when the Joker is exposing his victims to the _Venom_ ," Barbara said as she moved to stand behind Dick's chair. "Do the notes have anything to say about when he's giving them the _Venom_? And how?"

Bruce touched a few buttons on the keyboard and brought up the notes someone uploaded to the servers a few hours ago.

"According to this," he said as he scanned the information, "the Joker is administering it prior to death via injection."

"He's using a liquid form of _Venom_ then." Dick ran a hand over the back of his head. "That's just great."

"He's giving it as an injection prior to death?" Barbara _hmmed_ softly. "Well, that's not very typical of him."

"The Joker is not always predictable."

"It'd be nice if he was more predictable." Dick breathed out a heavy breath. "We'd know what he's planning if he was."

"The Joker is predictable by being unpredictable."

He reveled in his unpredictability. Thrived on it. Bruce figured out long ago that the Joker lived for two things: anarchy and chaos. Taking away his ability to create disorder and confusion

"He doesn't always murder people the same way," Barbara said. "But you can expect there are elements of one murder that will turn out to be similar to others."

"Is his _Venom_ the official cause of death?" Dick reached for a cup situated on a cabinet beside him. "Do the notes say?"

"The _Venom_ is not listed as the cause of death." Bruce leaned back in his chair. "It's listed as a non-lethal version."

"What is?" Her eyes met his in the screen. "As if I don't have a good enough guess as what is."

"Blunt trauma."

He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to. They were both familiar with what the Joker could do with a crowbar or a wrench. _They know how dangerous the Joker is. They've had more than their shares of run-ins with him_. _They've seen what he's capable of_. Not for the first time, and Bruce had long resigned himself to the idea it wouldn't be the last, he found himself wondering if Jason didn't have a point. _Maybe I should have allowed the Joker to get killed. Maybe this wouldn't be happening if I had put a stop to him years ago._

As always, he dismissed his thoughts. The reasons for why he hadn't killed the Joker still applied. _It's not because it's wrong morally_ , he thought as Dick shifted beside him. _It's that killing him would make us no better than him_. Killing a killer did not reduce the number of killers in the world. It simply replaced one with another.

 _Just because we are in the middle of an apocalypse does not mean that we let go of the ideals that we have upheld for so long_. No, those principles he stood for, fought for, and passed to his protégés still applied. They had to. They couldn't teach a better way to people if they, themselves, didn't follow their own example.

"So, this version of _Venom_ ," Dick murmured thoughtfully. "It's the non-lethal version, right?"

"Yes." He looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask because it's not the same chemical structure as his typical non-lethal version of _Venom_." His face went grim. "He's altered it."

"What do you mean by altered it?" Barbara frowned as she scanned the screen. "I'm not seeing what's different about this version. It all reads similar to me."

"Well, look at the formula's composition." Dick leaned forward to point at the screen. "It still causes uncontrollable laughter and their faces to get pulled into a huge grin, but there's something else he's added that is causing them to reanimate with more than their primal drives intact."

"What, though?"

"Good question."

Bruce scrolled through the notes in search of the answer to Dick's question. He sat forward when he realized that there was a crucial piece of the puzzle left out of her notes—the most important piece in fact.

"Hang on," he said. "The notes aren't complete. The Joker's formula is detailed, but the additive he added, is missing."

"Why would they leave that out?"

"Oh, I can answer why with who."

"Enlighten us then, Adult Wonder."

"Raya." Dick sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "She's keeping what that additive is a closely guarded secret."

Barbara's lips curved. "Gee, no clue where she might have picked up that particular bad habit from."

Bruce didn't offer a reply. There was no need in his mind. He knew what additive Raya was keeping a closely guarded secret. _I just don't know where or how he acquired it_ , he thought as the bats again chirped and fluttered overhead. _But I will find out._

 _And I will put a stop to it._

 _..._

"Alexandria." Slade didn't like the expression on the kid's face. It was so grim, so set. Like someone about to go to war. _He is going to war_ , he realized as a swirl of his earlier guilt returned to plague him. They all were. _And the man leading the opposition is one who thrives on anarchy and laughs at fear_. "We take everyone to Alexandria."

Slade could only think of one reason the kid wanted to take the Saviors to Alexandria. _His mother is there_. Excitement chased away any pain lingering from almost getting blown into the afterlife by the Joker's car bomb. Every nerve buzzed. Locked behind the walls of his heart, the serpent squirmed and hissed with anticipation. _Soon_ , he thought as the snake slithered out to coil itself around his heart. _Soon, I will have you in my possession_.

Finding Raya and Rose was the start of what'd be a life spent in quiet solitude with his only surviving child. _You thought you could hide from me, love_ , he thought as he glanced at the masked figure standing beside her brother. _You were wrong_.

A smile, the first true smile he smiled in months curved his lips. The future he planned while he searched for them was finally within his grasp. Getting a chance to know Rose was what kept him going as he tracked them across Georgia. His search brought him to a small farmhouse a few miles outside of Atlanta. There he found the remnants of the men Lex Luthor sent to retrieve the boy, Christopher.

One of the men managed to survive the massacre. _Well_ , he amended silently, _they survived long enough to tell me what happened._ The serpent he kept chained up inside slithered to the surface when the bastard admitted they planned to take the kid and kill his dove, the sheriff, and his daughter.

The sheriff getting killed didn't bother him. The man was as good as dead once he caught up with them. He aided his dove. Sheltered her. Helped keep his daughter from him. For that, the man would pay. Much like Luthor's man did after the snake coiled itself around the bastard's neck and snapped it.

No mercy. No pity. No regrets.

Slade sent word to Luthor that he'd do the same to him if he didn't make it expressly clear that his daughter and her mother be returned to him unharmed. After searching the farmhouse and grounds for any clue about where his dove was heading next. He resumed his quest, stalking his dove across Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, and finally to here in Virginia. Somewhere along the way she split from the sheriff. Why, Slade didn't know. He didn't rightly care. All he wanted was his daughter.

Trapping Raya proved far more difficult than he anticipated it'd be. The woman had not only been trained by Batman, but she had that Quinn woman, Robin, and Red Robin all traveling with her. Taking on three of Batman's protégés was a bit of a stretch for even a man of his considerable skill.

Trying to snatch her and Rose from under their nose appealed to him, but was quickly decided would be nothing short of suicide. While Robin and Red Robin obeyed Batman's golden rule, the Quinn woman did not. Getting ripped apart by a pack of rabid hyena or clocked over the head by a woman who wielded a mallet with the same deftness Negan did his bat didn't sound particularly appealing.

So he waited, silently biding his time, knowing an opportunity to trap his dove would eventually present itself. His patience was about to finally pay off. He already had his daughter in his grasp. Soon, he'd have her mother. _And there is nothing that Negan can do to stop me from taking her and Rose back to the Foundry._

The smarmy mouthed bastard would try, of course. Negan was under the misguided belief that Raya belonged to him. He'd just show him how mistaken he was. 'Ah, but she doesn't belong to you, either,' the snake whispered to him. 'You made sure of that when you failed to protect your daughter from the Scarecrow.'

He ignored the hissing serpent. He didn't need it reminding him of his failures. He was well aware he placed his feud with Oliver Queen before his daughter. 'Your refusal to set aside your vendetta with him almost cost you, the serpent said. 'If not for Oliver Queen and the Scarlet Speedster, your daughter may have gotten poisoned by the Scarecrow.'

He forced the hissing snake back into the dark caverns from which it slithered. He'd make up for his mistake once he had Rose and Raya safe in his Foundry. He'd take care of them as he should have. He'd keep them safe. _Once I have them settled in at the Foundry, I will hunt down the Joker and put a bullet in him_ , he decided as people murmured and passed along what the kid said. _The clown can't harm them if he's dead._

 _Permanently_ dead. Not just believed dead. Or maybe dead. No, this time, the bastard just be dead.

"Alexandria?" Negan all but purred the word. "You want us to go to Prick?"

"No," Christopher denied with a shake of his head. "I want you to go to Mom."

"She's with Prick." The ends of Negan's lips curled. "In Alexandria."

Elation soared through Slade at having Raya's location confirmed. His joy quickly soured when a new speaker spoke from the back of the crowd.

"The Joker is expecting you to make such a move. He has men on the roads leading to Hilltop, Kingdom, Oceanside, and Alexandria because he expects people to try to evacuate to somewhere safer."

It could have been any of the male members of the Justice League or Titans who spoke from the back of the crowd. Slade knew who that voice belonged. A thousand years could pass, and he'd still know it. The man was someone he'd never forget. A brother who betrayed him in the worst way imaginable.

Oliver Queen. The Queen Arrow. He was here. His heart beat a hard tattoo against his rib cage. Fury ignited. Hate clouded what little reason he still possessed. Slowly, he turned to watch as Oliver made his way through the crowd. The serpent inside him slithered out from the dark recesses he banished it to earlier.

It barred its teeth, thick black ooze dripping from its fangs and causing every one of his nerve endings to pulsate with a corrosive mixture of anger and hate, regret and recrimination, grief and suffering. Finally, he could fulfill the promise he made all those years ago.

Finally, he'd avenge Shado.

"Why's he doing this?" A man asked from the back of the crowd. "What's this fella want?"

"To turn all of you into weapons."

"Why, though?" A woman with short hair turned to look at Oliver. "Why does he want to turn us into weapons?"

"For a laugh." Soft gasps and murmurs greeted the kid's reply. People needed to know what they were dealing with. _With who,_ Slade amended quietly. "That's why."

"The Joker is also behind the disappearances of your people." Oliver's eyes briefly met his. Warned him about trying anything. Slade swallowed his urge to shove his way through the crowd and grab him by the throat. _Soon_ , he told himself. He'd have his revenge soon. "He's been taking them, dosing them with a toxin of his own making, and turning them into an undead army." Nervous twitters and angered mutterings greeted his words. "Two of those responsible are in custody. I apprehended them as they tried to carry off one of your members."

"Who?" A thin woman with white hair stepped forward. "Who did they try to take?"

"Sherry."

Negan released a stream of curses that grated on Slade's already fraying nerves. His fingers itched to pull one of the swords fixed to his back and slash it across the man's throat. He refrained simply because there were too many people armed with loaded weapons.

"Where is she now?" Another woman asked worriedly. "Where is Sherry?"

"Being treated at a JLA safe house. She will be fine after a few days rest." He looked over the gathering. "Right now, we need to worry about getting all of you back inside where it is safe."

"We can't take them back inside." The kid exchanged a look with Arrow. "The Joker has planted over a dozen bombs inside. That's why I want to evacuate everyone to Alexandria."

A frown puckered Oliver's brow. "Why don't you just take them to the Bunker?"

"Yeah, uhm." The kid grimaced. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"Robin got us locked out." Christopher dug the toe of his sneaker into the cement and averted his eyes. "That's why we gotta take everyone to Alexandria."

"Because only your mother can lift the communication order to get Batman to unlock it."

The kid nodded. "Yeah."

"It's a good thing your mother asked me to help keep an eye on things here." A small smile graced Oliver's lips. "Otherwise, you'd be in even more trouble than you are."

Slade itched to wipe that smile off his face. He took a step towards him without realizing he had done so. The kid barred his way. He scowled at him.

"Move."

"No."

If Slade's patience wasn't hanging by a thread, he'd have been impressed by the balls the kid had. As it was, he wasn't in any mood to bandy words. He went toe-to-toe with the kid, subtly menacing, openly intimidating. Silently telling him it'd be in his best interest to get out of his way. The kid merely firmed his jaw and squared his shoulders.

"Boy..."

"I'm not a boy." The kid's eyes glinted with anger. "And you are not going after Arrow. Do you understand me?"

"Look, kid..."

"You heard him," Negan rasped. "Now, step the fuck back from the kid before I beat the holy fuck fucking fuckedy fuck out of you."

Slade wisely backed up. He could take on Negan, the kid, and the Fairy by himself. Taking on them and fifty others with assault rifles? That was suicide. And there was one thing he was not: suicidal. Still, he couldn't refrain from reminding Oliver about where things stood between them.

"I made you a promise, kid." He dropped his voice an octave. "Do you remember that? I made you a promise."

"I remember, Slade." His eyes lifted to his. "What's your point?"

"My point is that I am going to finally fulfill it." The corner of his mouth curled. "I am going to see how much pain you can tolerate before you will break."

"Do it then." There was weariness more than anger in his voice. "I'm done. I'm sick of your games. And I'm tired of always having to look over my shoulder and worry that you could be there, just waiting for the moment to strike at me or someone I care about."

"You'll be done when I say you are done." Slade hurled the words at his former friend. His supposed brother. "You understand me? You'll be done when _I_ say that you are done!"

The ground fell out from beneath him, and there was a white flash that blasted him into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope the week has been good to you!

I just want to take this moment to give a special thank you to spnfandom8 for all the wonderful feedback they've given me. Each and every one of you who have followed/favorited and reviewed are deeply appreciated.


	41. Forty-One

Oliver studied the man lying unconscious at his feet with a mixed bag of emotions. He'd resigned himself long ago to he and Slade never being the friends — the brothers — they once had been. Too much had happened — on Lian Yu and off — for them to ever be friends again. _He can't forgive me for Shado anymore than I can forgive him for my mother._

Just because they were now on opposing sides didn't mean he wanted to see harm come to him. He'd gone out of his way to try to save Slade because he believed there was still a good man inside him. The _Mirakuru_ — which he chose to inject in him — and his grief over Shado broke him mentally. Slade was a man with a distinct code of honor. He wasn't like Batman — no other hero he met matched the Dark Knight — but neither was he morally corrupt.

Raya refusing to let him see Rose didn't help matters any. Not that Oliver didn't understand why she didn't want Slade involved in their daughter's life. He promised to set aside his hatred of him to protect Rose from the Scarecrow and failed.

He glanced at the silent girl, wondering what she must be thinking and feeling. Her face was perfectly composed. Not that he expected it'd be anything else. Her eyes though told a much different story. They glowed against the black mask she wore. Deeply green, deeply sad. His gut clenched at seeing that crack in Rose's armor. Fury shot through him. All of it for the man who failed at being the one thing his daughter needed: her father.

 _A man who walks around with a baseball bat and makes swearing an Olympic sport has acted more like her father than her actual father_ , he realized, fists clenching at his sides. Raya took her small family and moved to Georgia because she got tired of him interfering in their lives. She decided the only way to keep Slade from finding them was to live somewhere masked vigilantes weren't a necessity and criminals were the garden variety that cops could handle.

 _Things have certainly changed since then_ , he thought as he glanced around the small gathering. Masked vigilantes were now in high demand. _We're the justice system now. We handle things once left to the military and police. We're what keeps the world from becoming a completely lawless one._ They couldn't be everywhere, and they couldn't do everything, though. _That's why Batman sent his protégés to various parts of the world. To show people that they didn't need to give up their morality or compromise their values to survive._

They didn't need to become killers.

The thought rolled through his mind as he deliberated over what to do with Slade. _Not that he's getting up any time soon_ , he thought, a smile trembling on his lips. No, Slade was gonna remain unconscious for a while. It wasn't much of a surprise. Christopher Kent had a vicious right hook. _Given who his father and grandfather were, Slade'll be lucky if his jaw isn't broken_.

"Well." He lifted his eyes to Christopher's. "That certainly takes care of him."

"I gave him a chance." Christopher glared down at Slade. "I wanted him to prove he'd put Rose before his need for vengeance. He wasn't."

"He can't." Oliver set a hand on his shoulder. "He can't let go of his need for vengeance. He has nothing without it."

"Should've let me introduce the one-eyed fuck to Lucille."

Oliver had never dealt with Negan face-to-face before today. He had heard plenty about him, though. Most all of it negative. The extreme punishments he handed out, the enslavement of other groups, and the taking of women as wives. He heard about all of it. And he didn't much like it. However, he trusted the woman absent at that moment. _She wouldn't stay with Negan if she didn't have a damn good reason_. He just didn't know what her reason for staying was.

"What does introducing him to Lucille prove?" Rose turned to face him. "That you're just as capable of killing as he is? That you need to use violence to solve all your problems?" She shook her head. "It proves nothing."

"It proves I am King of this Castle, Princess."

"You're the leader of the Saviors whether you kill him or not."

"I get enough of that save the world shit from your mom." Negan let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I don't need to get it from you, too."

"Then you already know what she'd say if she was here." She crossed her arms over her chest and spread her feet apart. "That killing him makes you no better than the Joker. And Mom," she added in a low, emotionally charged tone, "wouldn't be with you if you were the monster he is."

Oliver had to give Rose credit. There weren't many who'd stand up to a man with a bat wrapped in barbed wire. _But then,_ he mused as Negan ran a hand over his face. _Rose Wilson isn't like most people_. Most of those her age were barely able to drive a car or shoot a gun. Rose learned how to fire a weapon when she was ten and to drive when she was twelve. _And that's not including all the other training she's received from her mother and uncles._

"Crushing the prick's skull is what the fucking fuck deserves for the shit he's put you and your mom through."

"Mom doesn't want him dead."

"That's because your mom has a real fucking thing about sparing assholes."

"Yes," Rose agreed with a slight nod. "Because she's spared _you_ despite _you_ repeatedly doing things that go against what she believes."

Negan stood there for a moment in silence. Finally, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Gotta fucking say, Princess, you bust my balls almost as well as your goddamn mother." He waved his bat at Slade's unconscious form. "Fine. Let the sorry shit live." His face went hard as stone. "If he fucking comes back, though..."

"He won't," Oliver assured him. "You won't see Slade Wilson ever again. I promise."

"Yeah?" Negan turned his attention to him. "And exactly how the fuck can you make such a promise? Hm?"

"Because I'll be taking him to a secure location controlled by the Justice League once I move your people somewhere safe." Oliver signaled to Roy. "He will not be able to break free of this facility as he did the last one I placed him in."

Only silently did he add, _the one that the woman you're involved with helped free him from._ Negan didn't need to know about Raya freeing Slade. It wasn't any of his business and she'd paid for that mistake enough.

"And where the fucking fuck is it that you're wanting to take us?"

"I'll take your people to the Sirens," Oliver said. "They will be safe there."

One eyebrow lifted.

"And where the fuck am I going?"

"Christopher wants to go to Alexandria." He bent to secure Slade's wrists. "So, I suggest you go with him to Alexandria. Otherwise?" He lifted his eyes to Negan's. "The Joker will force Raya out of hiding. He knows what buttons to push. That's why he's attacking you."

"Yeah, well, that shit ain't gonna fucking happen." Negan stepped back so that Oliver and Roy could hoist Slade to his feet. "She'll keep her cute lil' ass put. I guaran-fucking-tee it."

...

 _She gave in way too easily,_ rolled through Rick's mind as he sat in his living room and listened to her entertain Judith, Michonne, and Carl with stories about her very _interesting_ family. _She gave in way, way too easily_.

The cop in him kept asking one question: _why_?

Why would she agree to stay in Alexandria with him when returning to the Sanctuary to handle what was going on made far more sense? _Especially since she's worried about what Slade Wilson and this Joker fella can do to the people who live at the Sanctuary._

Rick didn't know anything about them beyond what little he managed to pull out of Raya. Thankfully, he never met the two men face-to-face. Negan proved dangerous enough. He suspected things would turn out far differently had it been either the Joker or Slade Wilson who caught them in a trap.

 _She left me in Georgia because she was afraid this Joker would find us._

 _No_ , he corrected as Judith giggled and offered Krypto her ball. _She wasn't afraid of him finding_ her _. She was afraid he'd find_ me _. That he'd hurt_ me _. That's_ why _she left me._

Not that it was much of a surprise. The woman could care less about her own safety and well-being. How many times had they argued about her diving headfirst into hordes of walkers? How often had she completely disregarded his request to let him investigate a place while she and the kids waited in the police cruiser?

A fragment of conversation came to him as he sat there and watched her. They were in the farmhouse and arguing, like always, about him helping her with her problems.

 _"_ _I just want to help," he said. "What's so wrong about that?"_

 _"It could get you killed."_

 _"I almost got killed answering a routine request for backup."_

 _"And that's why you shouldn't be getting involved in this mess." Her tone was flatter than a pancake. "This isn't a routine backup call. These men will think nothing of killing you. And." She lowered her gaze. "I couldn't bear that. I couldn't bear if I got you killed, too."_

 _"I'm not going to get killed."_

 _"Yeah?" He heard the bitterness same as she did. "Conner didn't think he was going to get killed, either. Guess what? He did. So did Ethan."_

 _"Hey." He kept his tone gentle. "Look at me." He waited until she lifted her watery gaze to his before saying, "I'm not them."_

 _"I kn—"_

 _"And you are the one who could just as easily be killed here."_

 _"But it wouldn't be_ you _."_

That's all that mattered to Raya. That it wasn't him who ended up dead. He looked to where she sat in an armchair, Judith perched happily in her lap and Krypto at her feet. _Well_ , he thought as Michonne laughed. _Good to see that some things haven't changed._

Yet, they had, he realized. Something about her was different. Time and again, he found himself going back to how easily she gave into staying there in Alexandria. The woman he remembered wouldn't stay behind if he handcuffed her to a tree. No, she'd have found some way to slip out of the cuffs and go do whatever it was she wanted. _Why then has she decided to stay here when what she wants to do is go and hunt down this clown?_

That was the question he most wanted an answer too.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. Nothing showed but for a bone-deep weariness he understood all too well. It stirred him, a mixture of guilt and sympathy. He and that loudmouth asshole were why she had gotten zero sleep in the last twenty-four hours. _The added stress of whatever is happening at the Sanctuary isn't helping matters any_.

Well, he could at least fix that.

"You should try to get some sleep while we wait to hear from that Dwight fella," he told her when she finished telling a story about her brother Tim getting covered in honey. "Imagine you could use it."

"I'm okay." She sent him an easy smile. "But thank you."

"Right." That smile didn't reach her eyes. "Go on, go take a nap."

"Really, I'm fine." She set her cheek against Judith's crown. "I'm way too revved up to sleep at the moment."

"When did you sleep last?"

"Night before." She smiled at his snort. "He makes me sleep, Rick. And gets me to eat more than a few crackers and apple slices."

 _More than a few crackers and apple slices_? One eyebrow winged up. "Why are you only eating a few crackers and apple slices?"

"Some days that's all I can keep down."

 _Keep down_? Alarm shot through him as a plethora of reasons for why she wasn't able to keep down more than a few crackers and apple slices ran through his mind.

"Are you sick?"

"Not with any sort of virus, no," she quickly assured him. "It's more the stress of this world tends to tie my belly in knots and I can't keep anything food-wise down."

"You need to stop worrying yourself."

"Kinda hard to do when I have the Joker leaving me lovely little presents."

"Presents?" Even as he asked the question, he suspected he already knew the answer. "What sort of presents?"

"Not the kind you want to open."

He grimaced. "You mean...?"

"Yes."

"How many?" Not that he really wanted to know the answer. "Do you know?"

"An exact number of victims in total?"

"Yeah."

"No." She shook her head. "I'm not honestly sure of how many there are."

"Give me an estimate."

"Twenty, maybe more." She made a face. "It's always more when it comes to that pasty-faced freak."

 _Twenty, maybe more_. He couldn't believe one man capable of killing so many people. It just didn't seem possible. He helped kill that many at Negan's outpost, sure, and dozens of others over the last three years. This was one man doing this. _One_ man.

One very sick, deranged man.

"So there could be more but you just haven't found them?" At her nod, Rick ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Great. That's just what we need."

"You were a cop, Rick," she said gently. "You know as well as I that crime doesn't stop simply because there's an apocalypse going on."

"This fella is more than a criminal."

"The Joker is what the criminals fear." Krypto chimed in with a woof. "Yes, I know Manson would be afraid of him."

"That's why you can't go after him." A strange expression crossed her face as she stared at him. "He's far too dangerous for you to go after alone."

She harrumphed.

"I've already said I won't go after him."

"No, what you said is that you won't go after him while I'm looking."

"Fine, I promise that I won't go after the Joker."

"And to stay here."

"And to stay here." She smiled down at Judith. "Since you've given me an adorable ball and chain to play with."

 _Why_? He asked her silently. _Why're you not putting up a fight? Why're you agreeing to my terms now when you wouldn't before?_ It was almost as if there was something forcing her to stay on the sidelines. Something serious enough that it had her agree to command her troops from here in Alexandria and not lead them from the Sanctuary. What, though? What'd keep a woman who'd jump in front of a bullet here? _Son of a bitch_ , he thought as the reason finally dawned on him.

"When?" He grimaced as her startled gaze flew to his. He hadn't meant to blurt it so forcefully. "When?" He tried again, softer this time.

"When?" She lifted a brow. "When what?"

"When's the baby due?"

Her face paled. "How did you...?"

"There's only one reason you'd agree to stay here without fussing about it." He looked at Judith. "So, when is the baby due?"

"March." Her face softened. "It's due in March."

 _She's not so guarded now_ , Rick thought. He liked her best at these times. Her eyes didn't have that wary, hunted look to them. She was more approachable during these moments, more prone to engaging in teasing banter, and to answer questions. _Like about her family and Negan_.

"Does your family know?"

"Do you think I'd be allowed to run around if they knew I was having a baby?" Amusement twinkled in her eyes. "I'd have been bat-cuffed and shipped home the second they found out."

"Does he know?"

He didn't have to explain who he was. There was only one he that he'd be asking about.

"I haven't told him, no."

"You haven't told him he's going to be a father?" Michonne couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. "Why? He has a right to know."

"He does," Raya agreed with a nod. "And I plan to tell him. I've tried to tell him several times, in fact."

"Why haven't you?"

"He keeps pissing me off." She sat back in the chair. "You have to understand that I don't like what has happened between your people and mine any more than you. It's not what I wanted to happen. It's not how I intended to handle things had he agreed to let me approach you."

"You were going to approach us?"

"I asked him, begged him, in fact, to let me come here and negotiate a resolution between our communities." Her sigh was ripe with frustration. "I wanted to end things with no more blood being shed."

"Why didn't he?" Her gaze shifted to him. "You said you had him under control. That he hadn't used that bat on anyone in months." He locked eyes with her. "What changed?"

"You."

"Me?" Of anything he expected her to say, that wasn't it. Surprise shot through him and caused him to lose his train of thought. "What about me?"

"You hit him where he's his most vulnerable."

"I don't..."

"You've lost a wife to this world, Rick."

"Yeah, and?"

"It changed you." She waited half a heartbeat. "Didn't it?"

"Yeah..." Lori's death sent him spiraling into a dark place. She didn't need to know that. Not that she didn't already suspect. The woman was a trained therapist. "What's your point?"

"Imagine what losing Lori felt like." She spoke softly, slowly. And all the more effective for it. "Now imagine the fear you'd feel if you hear about the place that the only woman you've let get close to you since your wife died has come under attack by the group you've been having a pissing contest with."

"You were at the Satellite Depot the night we attacked it?"

"Yes, I was." She kept her eyes locked with his. "You made this personal, Rick. And the one thing he doesn't handle well is personal." She sent him a knowing smirk. "You tend to have that in common."

"I'm nothing like that asshole."

"Oh, I beg to differ." She sat forward. "You're mirror images of each other. There's just one thing that separates you."

"What?"

"You don't have the same skill with swear words that he does." Her lips curved into a smile. "Though, I've heard you let a few colorful phrases fly when you're really pissed off."

"Yeah?" His lips twitched. "Well, I tend to recall that you have a way with swear words, too."

"The old man would say she learned most of those words from me."

Rick swung his gaze to the figure leaning negligently against the entryway into the kitchen. He took in the red half-mask, the leather jacket that looked like it had seen lots of action over the years, the thigh holsters with two .45 pistols, and the black body armor that fit the man like a glove.

He didn't have any clue about who the man was. Something told him he was connected to Raya. Especially since Krypto didn't do more than thump his tail on the floor and woof excitedly. _Is this one of her brother's_? He was about to ask but Michonne beat him to it.

"Who are you?" Her tone was wary. "And what are you doing in our house?"

"Name's Red Hood." He shoved away from the wall and walked towards where Raya sat, an amused look on her. "And I'm here to keep her outta trouble."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!


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